
BY A.H. CORDIER, M. D, 



ILLUSTRATED 




ms 




Mij Game Warden Ram. 



Some Big Game 
Hunts 



By 



A. H. CORDIER, M. D. 

Professor Surjfery University Medical College, Ex-President 

Mississippi Valley Medical Association, Ex-President 

Tri-State ( Iowa, Missouri and Illinois ) Medical 

Society, Ex-Chairman Section Gynaecology 

of American, Medical Association, etc. 



Illustrated From Photographs Made by the Author 
Unless Otherwise Specified 



Kansas City, Missouri 
1911 



To 

ALLIE G. CORDIER, 

MY WIFE, 

THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY 

DEDICATED. 



Copyrighted 1911, 
By Union Bank Note Company 



Press of 

Union Bank Note Co., 

Kansas City, Mo. 



^^5-0 



©CI.A303G87 

MO. f 



PREFACE 



If an apology were necessary for writing this book 
on Some Big Game Hunts when so many works on 
the same subject have already been published, my 
excuse would be: a desire to call the attention of my 
brother physicians and others to the necessity of taking 
an annual outing away from the busy strife going on 
about them while at home, and to the value received 
from such a vacation. 

I know of nothing that stays the hour-hand of time 
more than trips such as herein described. It is not 
necessary to be a naturalist to enjoy these outings. 
If you have trained your power of seeing things you 
look at and know the difference between fur and 
feathers, skin and scales, you will see many things to 
interest you. There is much to enjoy while hunting 
besides the actual killing of big game. 



"And this our lives exempt from public haunts finds 
tongues in trees, books in running brooks, sermons in 
stones, good in everything." 



Kansas City, Missouri. A. H. Cordier, M. D. 

1911. 



• 



CONTENTS 



Chapter I. Page 
Selection of Locality for the Hunt, Clothing, Guns, 
Provisions, Guides, Hunting Companion and Other 
Equipment 17 

Chapter II. 

A Buffalo and Antelope Hunt in Southwestern 
Kansas and No Man's Land 31 

Chapter III. 

Hunting Elk, Deer and Bear in Wyoming. Many 
Amusing Incidents of the Trip. Difficult Moun- 
tain Trails. Beautiful and Rare Mountain Scenery 45 

Chapter IV. 

Pack Train Experience. Steep CHmbing. Grand 
Mountain Scenery 54 

Chapter V. 

Moved Camp. Saw Bull Elk. Some Elk Traits. 

Elk Bugling. My First Elk 73 

Chapter VI. 

Elk and Wolf Fighting. Teton Mountains. Snow 
Storm. My Second Elk 81 

Chapter VII. 

Yellowstone River Camp. More Elk. Home- 
ward Bound 87 

Chapter VIII. 

A Moose and Caribou Hunt in New Brunswick. 
Some Traits of the Moose. Cow Moose Killed 
liy Mistake. Some Amusing Exi)eriences 94 



Contents — Continued 

Chapter IX. 

The Moose and Some of His Traits. Moose Calling 106 

Chapter X 

British Columbia Hunt after Mountain Sheep, 
Goats and Bear 115 

Chapter XI. 

Indians of British Columbia. Trails in the Cas- 
cades. Killed Lynx. Porcupines. Mountain Sheep 
and his Habits 127 

Chapter XII. 

Killing Mountain Sheep in Closed Season, and 
What It Cost Me 139 

Chapter XIII. 

Some Good Trout Fishing. Game Warden Visits 
Our Camp. Secured the Sheep Head and Scalp. 
Indian Deserts Us. Retracing Our Steps. Find 
of the Game Warden's Deer, Killed Out of Season. 
Some Reminiscences 148 

Chapter XIV. 

Camp Seclusion. Mountain Goats and their Traits. 
Killing Goats 158 

Chapter XV. 

Our Last Camp. Some Deer and Goat Hunting. 
The Bear We Did Not Get. Englishman's Bear 
Hunt 169 

Chapter XVI. 

Kodiak Island, Alaska, Hunting Trip. Scenes and 
Incidents En Ro^de 177 

Chapter XVII. 

On Board the Steamship Ohio, Through the Famous 
"Inside Passage" Along the Alaskan Coast 182 



Contents — Continued 

Chapter XVIII. 

Through Icy Strait. In a Northern Pacific Storm 
on a Foggy Night, on Board a Ship with a Broken 
Rudder Chain 189 

Chapter XIX. 

Cordovia, Valdez, Seward, Seal Rocks, Cook's Inlet, 
Mount McKinley 195 

Chapter XX. 

The Steamship "Dora." Cook's Inlet. Kodiak 
Island. Uyak. A Sail on the "Emile" to Fox 
Island 210 

Chapter XXI. 

Off for a Bear Hunt. Our First Bear. Hair Seals. 
Some Exciting Sailing Experience 218 

Chapter XXII. 

Methods of Hunting Kodiak Bears. A Bear Story 232 

Chapter XXIII. 

Fox Farming 245 

Chapter XXIV. 

Return Trip Begins. Shipwrecked Crew and Fisher- 
men of the Columbia Aboard a Badly Leaking 
Boat 256 

Chapter XXV. 

Some Thoughts on Alaska. Its Resources, Inhab- 
itants, Game Laws. The Moose Cow Hybrid 271 

Chapter XXVI. 

Hunting the Javelina Along the Rio Grande in Texas .286 

Chapter XXVII. 

A Royal Buffalo Hunt 305 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



Frontispiece— MY game warden ram 2 

The author, photo, by coffee 4 

An individual floored tent is a valuable aid to 

one's camp comfort 20 

Truly a species of big game now almost extinct 26 

American antelope, group mounted and photo- 
graphed BY PROF. L. L. DYCHE, OF UNIVERSITY 

of kansas 32 

The camp cook's reverie 36 

a beautiful camp site 39 

The DEER WERE PLENTIFUL IN COLORADO 41 

Bear in his native haunts 42 

Wyoming elk in their winter quarters, photo- 
graphed BY s. n. leek 46 

Comparative sizes of coyote, black bear and kodiak 

brown bear 48 

"Old MISSOURI" and me, photographed by "h. p." 51 

Resemb ledan army of multi-colored ants 55 

My saddle horse 58 

ISHWOOD pass, sheep MOUNTAIN IN THE DISTANCE 62 



Illustrations — Continued 
The pleasures op camp life are memories ever to be 

ENJOYED 66 

Wash day 69 

"Is IT RIGHT?" 79 

A pause at TIMBER LINE 84 

Camp thief. These birds are a peculiar set 86 

Our camp on the Yellowstone river 88 

The outgoing tide in the bay of fundy leaves many 

VESSELS setting IN THE MUD AT THE WHARVES 95 

A MOOSE hunter's home in new BRUNSWICK 98 

Interior of our cabin, photo, by "h. p." 100 

" 'Doc,' YOU HAVE killed A COW MOOSE" 103 

As WE TOOK our departure A FLOCK OF BUZZARDS 

COULD BE seen HIGH IN THE AIR 105 

A BEAVER DAM 109 

We OUTFITTED IN LILLOOET 116 

The barkerville limited 118 

a british columbia through freight 120 

"Billie" manson, the noted guide 122 

a sun-set scene on the frazier river 123 

It is indeed pathetic, but what are we going to do 

ABOUT it? 124 

"Alex" trailed us toward his sheep pasture 125 



Illustrations — Continued 

A LYNX. He was an extra large varmint, photo. I5Y 

FRANK 128 

Horse skull camp 130 

The beautiful ovis dalli of kenai peninsula, photo- 
graphed BY DR. BAUCHMAN, OF SEWARD, ALASKA 133 

The ovis Montana. This is a record head in many 

OF ITS measurements 133 

Mementoes of a good time 138 

The author and his "game warden sheep" 140 

"Creekwah," our cook, was fond OF "porky" 145 

Here frank caught forty trout within an hour 147 

Camp limit 149 

Patiently waiting for his pack 152 

"Billie" and some rams 154 

Looking for the antlered monarchs of the rockies 157 

Mount cordier 159 

Camp seclusion 161 

From this point we "spied" the goats 163 

A nice museum specimen 165 

Packing a-la-siwash 167 

Loaded 174 

KoDIAK ALASKA. PHOTO. BY J. E. THWAITES 178 



Illustrations — Continued 

Sitka. It was here on October 18th, 1867, that the 
stars and stripes supplanted the russian 

FLAG 184 

Icebergs floated lazily to their death 187 

Dinner is now being served in the barabara 194 

CoRDOViA. The ocean terminus of the copper river 

RAILROAD. photo. BY J. E. T 196 

a copper river native. photo. by unknown 198 

Seward, on beautiful resurrection bay, photo. 

BY J. E. T. 201 

Scenery of enchanting beauty 204 

Seldovia. It was from this place dr. f. a. cook dis- 
embarked FOR his mount MCKINLEY ASSAULT 207 

Rugs 209 

As the DORA LEFT UYAK MY NEW FRIENDS BADE ME 

good-by 213 

Uyak. Four million cans of salmon are shipped 

from this place each year 216 

Kodiak brown bears, photo, by J. E. T 220 

The emile in sahar bay 223 

Virginia waterfall 226 

Kodiak brown bear 230 

The vast ice fields of Alaska cover twenty thous- 
and SQUARE miles 233 

These badarkas are as graceful in the water as 

A DUCK 235 



Illustrations — Continued 

Aleuts. The man in the center is a chief of the 

aleutian indians 240 

ALF'S ST. HELENA 246 

The BLUE fox's worst enemy, photo, by j. e. t 250 

Alf, the guide and fox farmer 253 

Bear skins secured near seward, Alaska, photo, by 

dr. bauchman 257 

a barabara, my kodiak island camp home 260 

Part of the Columbia's shipwrecked crew 264 

The DORA was beached as soon as her passengers 

were landed 267 

Waiting 270 

Dutch harbor, photo, by j. e. t 272 

An ALASKAN GARDEN AT SEWARD 274 

Ancestral trees or totem poles 276 

Malamute 27!) 

The beautiful white tail deer of texas 288 

Chuck wagon and Mexican fence riders 294 

Texasja velina under an average sized mesquite tree 297 

A TEXAS javelina 299 

Buffalo group. Collected, mounted and photo- 
graphed BY PROF. L. L. DYCHE 308 



CHAPTER I. 

SELECTION OF LOCALITY FOR THE HUNT, CLOTHING, 

GUNS, PROVISIONS, GUIDES, HUNTING COMPANION 

AND OTHER EQUIPMENT. 

The selection of a locality for* a successful big game 
hunt is a matter of no little magnitude, and much dis- 
cretion and time are often necessary to complete the 
arrangements. Especially is this true if the hunter 
lives a long distance from the secluded haunts of the 
game he is going after. 

Railway guide books and sporting house catalogues 
cannot always be relied upon. Articles in sporting 
magazines, while usually authentic, are often mislead- 
ing, because they do not tell of the failures, disasters, 
drawbacks and difficulties of the trip. Details such 
as the prospective hunter would like to know are only 
too often omitted. This applies to the veteran as well 
as to the tenderfoot, for the reason that in all localities 
the climatic, topographical and many other features 
peculiar to that locality vary and the hunter should go 
prepared to meet each in its turn. 

In this chapter I trust that the experienced hunter 
will appreciate my endeavors, and that the tenderfoot 
will properly value the suggestions made, for experience 
is often an expensive and a disappointing teacher. 



18 Some Big Game Hunts 

I have hunted big game for many seasons in a ter- 
ritory the boundary of which extends from the cane 
brake slough flats of Southern Mississippi to the cran- 
berry lake swamps of Northern Minnesota and from 
the muskeg and caribou moss covered heaths of New 
Brunswick to the volcanic, desolate, crumbling peaks 
of Central British Columbia and the tide-ripped shores 
of Alaska and Kodiak Island. I have found on these 
trips all kinds of game, from the chipmunk to the griz- 
zly bear, from the snow shoe rabbit to the moose, moun- 
tain sheep, goat, antelope, caribou, elk, Kodiak brown 
bear and deer. 

My guides, while not extensive in variety, have been 
varied enough to warrant me in saying that, as a rule, 
these diamonds in the rough are jewels of rare worth. 
However, I have had some experiences with guides that 
the less said the better for the reputation of the good 
and faithful majority of these whole-souled fellows. 
Guides have troubles of their own with some of the so- 
called sportsmen; but that is another story. 

How will you select the locality for your next big 
game hunt? I would advise you to make up your 
mind several months in advance, that you are certainly 
going to take a hunt and then decide upon the kind of 
game that you want to go after. There are some local- 
ities where a variety of game can be found within a 
small radius, but do not expect to find antelope grazing 
above timber line in the center of a broad mountain 



Equipment 19 



range, or big horns on some little knoll out in a broad 
expanse of prairie. 

These remarks may sound very elementary, but my 
dear reader, please remember that a large number who 
go out in quest of big game for the first time are men 
who have been cooped up in their offices for years, and 
do not know the peculiarities or natural traits of the 
game they propose hunting. To such, I would advise 
the purchase and careful study of good books on nat- 
ural history, and above all, take two or more sporting 
magazines and read them carefully at your leisure 
hours. Without a knowledge gained from such sources, 
the amateur hunter will fail to get the full value of his 
vacation, for I assure you there are many things to be 
enjoyed on trips of this kind, besides shooting the game 
you may see. 

Having fully determined that you are going to hunt 
big game, scan carefully the best sporting magazines 
for truthfully written articles by those who have made 
similar trips. If the editors are true sportsmen, such 
as our good friends, Mr. McGuire of Outdoor Life and 
others, I am sure, if you write them, they will be only 
too glad to refer you to sources where you may obtain 
all the information necessary. 

Having decided on the locality and selected your 
guide, begin several weeks in advance to get your equip- 
ment together, and about two weeks before you start 
see how much of the "unnecessaries" you can take out 
of the outfit. I find, as a rule, that the beginner is too 



20 



Some Big Game Hunts 



much disposed to take along all his birthday and Christ- 
mas hunting presents which are good for little else than 
to decorate the walls of his den. It is less expensive 
and not so burdensome to leave these at home and there 
show them to your circle of immediate friends. The 
guides have seen them all many times before. 

I would advise that you take only one hunting part- 
ner, and if you are not a physician, get one to go with 
you as your hunting companion. There is ever an ele- 




An individual floored tent is a valuable aid to one's camp comfort. 



Equipment 21 



ment of danger from accidents on these trips and other- 
wise you may be a long way from medical aid in a time 
of need. If you are a physician take a few essentials 
with you. That "necessity is the mother of invention" 
is exemplified on many occasions during a hunting trip. 

If you are of scientific turn of mind, take an aneroid 
and a thermometer — you can buy a good pocket aner- 
oid for twenty dollars and a thermometer for one dol- 
lar; also take along a good tape measure, a compass, 
a pair of scales and a camera — three and one-fourth 
by five and one-fourth being a good size. This whole 
outfit will weigh less than three pounds and need not 
be carried with you all the time while hunting. 

You will sleep more homelike in a little wedge tent, 
five by seven feet and seven feet high. It should be 
canvass floored, to keep out insects and reptiles, if you 
should be in a snake country. This tent will not weigh 
more than twelve pounds, can be carried in an ordinary 
grain sack and will cost you about twelve dollars. A 
sleeping bag with three woolen sack blankets will be 
needed to keep you warm in very cold weather, and to 
this outfit I would add a strip of rubber cloth — both 
sides rubber covered — six by twelve feet, to keep out 
the cold and rain and retain the heat of the body in 
the sack. 

The necessary clothing should be woolen and light 
and the shoes ought to be of light weight material with 
good soles. Do not burden yourself with big, heavy, 
clumsy hunting boots, requiring half a cow skin to 



22 Some Big Game Hunts 

reach to the knees. There is nothing that will tire you 
out more quickly while climbing mountains or walking 
over moss covered heaths than heavy foot gear. 

On most of my trips I have used a good grade tennis 
shoe, and have found them easy on the feet, noiseless 
and free from slippery qualities. Thus shod you can 
jump from one slick log to another with a good deal of 
assurance that you will stay where you land. 

For the protection of your shins and pantaloons, a 
seventy-five cent pair of leggins will meet every re- 
quirement of strength, durability and security. Wool- 
len stockings should be carried along for use in cold 
weather and for wet feet. The feet enclosed in woollen 
stockings will keep warm, even when water soaked, as 
long as you keep on the go. A good, heavy, ordinary 
shoe must be worn in cold weather, and a light pair of 
gum waders should be added to the list of foot gear. 

Your provisions should be selected with the view of 
nourishment, with a few toothsome articles added to 
the Hst. Canned goods, while desirable in some ways, 
are heavy and liable to freeze— condensed milk being 
an exception, unless the weather be very cold. Oat 
meal, rice, bacon, flour, salt, pepper and sugar are among 
the essentials, and dried apricots are especially delic- 
ious as an acid bearer on these trips. Beans and a few 
potatoes — bury the later deep below frost line — should 
be in the outfit. Syrup and buckwheat can be dispen- 
sed with, but sometimes these extras are very accep- 
table. 



Equipymnt 23 



Much has been written on hunting equipment, each 
writer and hunter advising that which his individual 
experience and demands suggest. As a rule, one should 
take only that which is necessary, or likely to be needed. 
If you have carefully studied the locality in which you 
expect to hunt, and the kind of game you are going 
after, it will be easy to select about what you will need. 
I usually make out a list of these articles some time 
before starting, and every few days go over it and cut 
out or add to it as I think best. 

On my Kodiak Island trip for a two months bear 
hunt, I took the following: 

Two skinning knives; 

One pair gum boots (waders) ; 

One compass; 

One camera, 3 A. 10 rolls of films, 10 exposures on 
each roll; 

One Stero-camera No. 2, Hawkeye, 10 rolls, 6 ex- 
posures on each roll; 

One aneroid; 

One mosquito net; 

Six pairs heavy woolen socks; 

Two extra pairs pantaloons, woolen; 

Two extra coats, woolen; 

One pair hand scales; 

A few surgical instruments; 

One gum hat; 

One gum coat; 

One pair tennis shoes; 



24 Some Big Game Hunts 

One pair gum gloves; 

Two pairs woolen gloves; 

One pair extra spectacles; 

Two towels; 

Writing tablet and pencils; 

One pair Bausch & Lomb Stero binocular field 

glasses ; 
Six extra handkerchiefs; 
Cleansing rods; 
Gun oil; 

Small gun tool, kit; 
Match safe — water proof; 
Safety pins; 
Buttons ; 

Three woolen shirts; 
One cap; 

One wide brimmed hat; 
One whetstone; 
One tooth brush; 
One comb; 
One razor; 

One fishing rod and a few flies; 
Two extra pairs woolen drawers; 
One sweater; 

One sleeping bag and extra blanket; 
One rubber sheet; 
One spool strong wire; 
Talcum powder; 
One tape measure; 



Equipment 25 



One fever and weather thermometer; 

Ball of good strong cord ; 

Ammunition — two or three hundred shells. 
This entire outfit weighs less than one hundred 
pounds, and can be shipped in an ordinary steamer 
trunk. If you are going on a horseback trip these 
things can be carried in two ordinary, strong sacks, 
about three feet long, making a light load for one horse. 
After a fair trial of many rifles, I am fully convinced 
that the 1895 Winchester, 35 caliber, is the best all 
around gun for big game on the market. The 405 is 
a more powerful weapon, but I would not recommend 
it except for hunting African big game. The 35 has a 
velocity at fifty feet of 2150 feet per second, and a strik- 
ing power of 2667 pounds; it penetrates 56 one-inch 
fresh pine boards, at fifteen feet, carries a bullet of 
250 grains and has a trajectory with the small range of 
only twelve inches at three hundred yards, with a re- 
coil of only nineteen pounds. The killing power of 
this rifle seems to be all anyone could desire, yet I 
fully realize there are many other makes of guns that 
are endorsed by hunters of much experience. 




UkNXiu'lHSSi 



Tndij a species of big game now almost extinct. 



Mij First Deer 27 

MY FIRST DEER 

I remember in my early life, in Kentucky, that deer 
were quite numerous. They were hunted with dogs, 
or tracked in the snow. There were certain runways 
that the deer would go through when pursued by dogs. 
Drives were made in the early morning, so that the 
hounds would strike the trails made during the night, 
while the deer were feeding. These hunts were usually 
taken in the fall, about the time the trees shed their 
foliage. I took part in many of these hunts, although 
not a member of any hunting parties. No fence or 
private holdings checked the hunted or hunter, when 
the chase was once started. I have seen deer, dogs and 
hunters on horses go pell-mell over rail fences and even 
right through our apple orchard. A favorite runway 
led through the creek bottom where we had a meadow. 
It was in the woods near this meadow that I used to 
take my stand when I heard the hounds on the trail. 
I always had to steal out my father's old "cap and ball" 
rifle, as I began hunting at too early an age to meet the 
full approval of my parents. 

Well do I remember how I would place the round 
bullet in the palm of my hand, pour the black powder 
from the horn until it just snugly covered it, then fish 
out the bullet, pour the powder into the slanting rifle 
barrel, put the patch over the muzzle of the gun, insert 
the bullet just within the barrel, cut off the patch, and 
with the hickory ramrod push the bullet down on the 
powder and ram it until the rod bounced out of the 



28 Some Big Game Hunts 

barrel, then open the cap box on the butt of the rifle 
stock, take out a "G. D." cap and put it on the tube. 
These old guns were very accurate up to sixty yards. 

On one occasion, while hunting quail, I had a little, 
single-barrel, muzzle loading shotgun, loaded with bird 
shot (No. 8). I heard the hounds barking, hot on the 
trail of something that was heading my way. I leaned 
against a poplar tree, to await development of coming 
events. I did not have to wait very long before a beau- 
tiful two-year-old buck came bounding along as noise- 
lessly as a rabbit ; and as he passed within a few feet of 
where I stood, I fired, but he continued his flight as 
though I had not touched him. The hounds came by 
pretty soon, with their hair all on ends and frothing at 
the mouth like dogs with hydrophobia. They did not 
run more than two hundred yards before they ceased 
barking, and as the deer had taken the direction in 
which I was going, I leisurely walked, and much to my 
surprise I found the deer lying stone dead. One shot 
had pierced his heart. 

I was so excited and felt so strong that I literally 
picked that deer up and carried him on my shoulders 
fully two hundred yards. After resting, I tried to lift 
him again, but was unable to get him off the ground. 
This was my first deer. Since that time I have killed 
many of these animals, but none of them have brought 
the genuine Daniel Boone huntsmanlike pride and grat- 
ification, equal to this little, spike buck killed while 
I was a mere boy near my old Kentucky home. 



SOUTHWESTERN KANSAS AND 
NO MAN'S LAND 



CHAPTER 11. 

A BUFFALO AND ANTELOPE HUNT IN SOUTH- 
WESTERN KANSAS AND NO MAN'S LAND. 

In September, 1883, I decided to take a short hunt- 
ing trip into Southwestern Kansas and No Man's Land, 
a narrow strip between Texas and Kansas, but now a 
part of Oklahoma. There were very few permanent 
settlers in that part of that country at that time. We 
left the Santa Fe railroad at Hartland, Kansas, and 
rode across the prairie, south, seventy-five or a hun- 
dred miles. 

On our journey across the buffalo grass plains, we 
found many prairie chickens, and with no trouble kept 
our larder well filled with nice, tender, young birds. 
We had heard that there was, roaming over this large 
territory, a small herd of buffalo. They had been seen 
by some cowboys a few months prior to our starting, 
and it was this herd that we were going out to hunt. 
We had in the party an oldtime buffalo hunter, whose 
name I have forgotten, and he was to pilot us to the 
herd. 

One afternoon, as we were riding along on the vast 
expanse of level prairie, I noticed to the west of our 
course an occasional flash of some white reflecting like 
objects, almost as if someone were using a mirror to i-e- 



32 



Some Big Game Hunts 



fleet the sunlight, only not so brilliant. I was at a loss 
to know the source whence this came, as I was a stranger 
to that part of the country and its inhabitants. On 
inquiry, I learned that a band of antelope was "flirting" 
with us. There were about fifteen or twenty in the 
bunch and these were the first antelope I had ever seen. 
They would dart over some little knoll, and as they 
disappeared, their little white rumps would fiash in the 
bright sunlight, but they would no sooner get out of 
sight than they would appear again at the crest of 
another ground swell. Their curiosity would not per- 
mit them to stay out of sight long at a time. We were 




Killed, mounted and photo(jra2)hed by Prof. L. L. Dyche, of K. U. 



Southwestern Kansas and No Man's Land 33 

probably the first white men they had ever seen, unless, 
perchance, some of the older members of the band had 
seen travelers along the old Santa Fe trail, that winds 
its course a few miles south of where we then were. 

We quickly decided to have an antelope hunt, and 
we separated into two parties, intending to circumvent 
them. The antelope seemed to understand our moves, 
and before we had gone a half mile, the band strung 
out across the prairie and was soon lost to sight. With- 
in a few miles of this spot, we discovered another band 
of five fine antelope, standing quietly on a little knoll 
a half mile away, stamping their feet, and intently 
gazing at us in the most inquisitive way. This time 
our party separated without dismounting, expecting 
to shoot from horse back. I was somewhat timid about 
shooting from the back of a broncho that had to be 
broken every time he was saddled, so I decided to let 
the others lead my horse, and I would sit down on the 
prairie and see the fun, or in other words, watch the 
old, experienced antelope hunters and learn how it was 
done. 

When those on horseback had gotten half around the 
antelope, but about half a mile away from them, the 
antelope struck out single file toward where I was sit- 
ting on the ground, but every little space they would 
pause, line up in military order, in a questioning atti- 
tude, and gaze intently at the peculiar looking object 
directly in front of them. Then the most venturesome 
one in the bunch, a particularly fine buck, would take 



34 Some Big Game Hunts 

the lead and renew the march toward me, but when 
within two hundred yards, they dashed away at a rate 
such as only antelope can go, making three quarters of 
a turn around me, and then began their inquisitive stalk 
toward me again. They kept this up until they came 
within a hundred yards of me, when I fired at the leader, 
killing him instantly with a breast shot. The others 
took to their heels, and soon were beyond the range of 
my thirty-eight Winchester. My hunting compan- 
ions were watching the whole performance from a safe 
distance. I was delighted with my kill, as it was the 
second bunch of antelope I had ever seen. Uncon- 
sciously, I had resorted to one of the very best methods 
to get a shot at an antelope. They are of a very in- 
quiring turn, as I learned later, and I had a great laugh 
at the expense of the veteran hunters on that occasion. 

We continued our trip down into Southwestern Kan- 
sas in quest of the buffalo. After riding over a vast 
scope of country, we discovered buffalo signs made 
the year before, but no buffalo were seen while I was 
with the party. I left the others in No Man's Land 
and returned home. I was absent on this hunt about 
five weeks. During that time the party killed several 
antelope and a numbei of coyotes, jack rabbits and 
prairie chickens. 

It has ever been one of my keen disappointments 
that I left the party before the hunt was over. Had 
I remained with them, I would have been in the last 
successful buffalo hunt of the whole Southwest. 



Southwestern Kansas and No Man's Land 35 



A few days after my return home, those remaining 
found fresh buffalo signs and followed them for a day, 
when they found the animals at a water hole. The 
hunters encircled them, and succeeded in wiping out 
the whole herd of seventeen. This was a ruthless 
slaughter, but it only hastened the inevitable. The 
hides, heads and much of the meat was brought back 
to the railroad and shipped to the market at Garden 
City and Fort Dodge. 

This same broad expanse of prairie at the present 
time has a farm on every quarter section of tillable 
land. The buffalo and the Indian, the original inhab- 
itants, have been corralled and put on reservations or 
in side-shows, where the curious can see them at so much 
a ticket. After all, I presume that the white settlers 
with their vast fields of grain, millions of domesticated 
animals and little white school houses are making bet- 
ter use of the country and prove to be far better and 
more desirable citizens than the Indian and the buffalo. 

A COLORADO BEAR AND DEER HUNT. 

In 1888, in company with the late Judge Underwood, 
of Kansas, I made a trip to Western Colorado to hunt 
big game. It was in the early part of September that 
we landed at Delta, a little station on the Denver and 
Rio Grande railroad. We were met by a Mr. Stevens, 
who with his outfit conducted us up the north fork of 
the Gunnison River to a post office called Paonia, the 
distance being about forty miles. At this time there 



36 



Some Dig Game Hunts 




The camp cook's reverie. 



is a railroad up this valley that taps some of the richest 
coal fields in Colorado. While on this hunt we found 
the vein that is being worked at this time and, in fact, 
I think some of our party filed a claim on the land soon 
after this hunt. 

We outfitted from Paonia and struck the trail up a 
small creek, putting into the north fork of the Gunni- 
son River from the Northwest. At our first night's 
camp we found fresh signs of the Ute Indians who at 
that time were off their Utah reservation on a hunting 
trip, and had recently been acting very ugly toward 
the whites. One of our party found a Ute blanket 



A Colorado Bear and Deer Hunt 37 

that had been lost by some member of the Indian hunt- 
ing party. My saddle horse on this trip was formerly 
owned by old Ouray, the chief of the Utes. 

We had a shepherd dog with us. At our first camp 
the fresh ashes of the Utes' campfire told us that the 
savages had camped there only two nights before. 
During the night the dog became very restless, and 
gi'owled and made signs of some suspected danger. At 
one time he jumped on to my bed and gave a most un- 
earthly growl. We were very much alarmed, as we 
were afraid that the Utes had surrounded us. There 
was a slight fall of snow during the night, and next 
morning, on looking for the cause of the dog's uneasi- 
ness, we found within a few yards of our camp where a 
grizzly bear had strolled leisurely by. The dog's bark- 
ing seemed not to disturb him in the least, judging 
from his tracks, which did not look like those made by 
a frightened bear. 

During the day we hunted from this camp. I re- 
member, distinctly, finding where many cattle (?) had 
lately visited a water hole near the timber line. On 
my way back to camp, I climbed upon a high log to 
take a look at the surrounding country. As I looked 
down into a little glade about fifty yards away, I got 
a glimpse of a large brown-looking animal, disappear- 
ing into the underbrush. I had never seen an elk, and 
did not realize what I was then looking at, until I re- 
lated my experience at the camp that night. I could 
have easily killed that elk had I known what it was, or 



38 Some Big Game Hunts 

had I thought to shoot before it was too late. 

The next day we stopped at an old, abandoned, pros- 
pector's cabin, and from this point we made several 
trips after bear. The bear signs were very plentiful 
in a large choke cherry patch of about three miles in 
extent. While here, we set a steel trap ?nd secured a 
very fine specimen of the cinnamon colored black bear. 
He dragged the four-inch, sixteen-foot long, quaking 
asp toggle for a mile down the mountain side. It was 
no trouble to follow his trail. I imagine that no such 
growling, threshing and gnawing of underbrush was 
ever made by a captive bear, before or since. A well 
directed shot from an old Sharp's rifle put a quietus on 
his bearship in record time. The next day, while hunt- 
ing in this same cherry patch, I ran onto three bears 
in a bunch, but they disappeared before I got a shot. 
1 was not much of a big game hunter, then. I have 
learned more about it since. I had more nerve and 
less judgment, then, than now. One of our party 
killed a small black bear the following day, and two 
days later, between two of us we secured another. On 
this trip we saw thirteen bears. 

We had seen fresh grizzly signs one afternoon, so 
early the next morning all hands were ready to go after 
this big bear. When we arrived at the canon where 
the bear signs were discovered, we found that an old 
she with two cubs made up the bear party. We fol- 
lowed them by their tracks in the soft earth, and by 
disturbed rocks and logs where the old bear had turned 



A Colorado Bear and Deer Hunt 



39 



them over, looking for bugs and mice. About ten 
o'clock we caught sight of them going over a little knoll 
into a deep gulch. While they were about five hun- 
dred yards away, we fired many shots, but this did not 
disturb her in the least, and even the dog barking at 
her would not make her run away from the cubs. She 
walked along as leisurely as a Jersey cow coming from 
the pasture to the barnyard. Every now and then 
she would wheel about and strike at the dog with her 
front foot. When she disappeared into the gulch, a 




A beautiful camp site. 



40 Some Big Game Hunts 

council of war was held, as to the best manner of attack. 
We decided to surround the gulch and it fell to my lot 
to go to the lower end of the canon, where the precip- 
itous walls approached to within a hundred yards of 
each other. It was suggested to me that I take that 
stand, for in so doing I would surely get a good, close 
shot, as they would drive the bear right toward me. 
Little did they think that they were telling the truth 
as to the course that old bear was going to take to get 
out of that gulch. Had they thought so, they would 
probably not have suggested that the youngest, least 
experienced and worst scared hunter of the bunch 
should take that stand. I started to the stand, but 
decided that I did not want to tackle an old mother 
grizzly with two cubs, all by myself with a single shot 
rifle. That was a sensible conclusion, as any hunter 
will certainly say. Sure enough, the bears did go by 
that stand, but they went by with no disturbance from 
my rifle or my presence. After this little incident, I 
lost my reputation as a bold, bad, bear hunter. 

While on this trip, we killed many deer, as they were 
very numerous in Colorado twenty years ago. We 
heard many elk bugling, but I did not know to what I 
was listening. Other members of the party had a few 
days hunt after elk, as I learned later, but they did not 
get a shot. I have learned much about the habits of 
big game since then. 

A few years after this hunt, I made another trip to 
Colorado, to fish for trout. While on this trip, I killed 



A Colorado Bear and Deer Hunt 41 

my first and only mountain lion, or puma. I found 
and killed him without the aid of dogs. The puma is 
of all animals the hardest to find without trailing dogs. 
I ran on to this lion while he was lying quietly on a large, 
sloping, fallen tree. His head was down the hill, and 
he appeared to be sound asleep. My trail passed di- 
rectly under the log on which he was lying, and it is 
barely possible that he was waiting for a deer, as I am 
sure that he did not expect me along that way. I dis- 
covered him at about a hundred yards distance and a 
single shot from a three hundred and three Savage 
killed him instantly. He was a very large lion, and 




The deer were plentiful in Colorado. 



42 



Some Big Game Hunts 



I had a whole mount made of this specimen, but the 
moth attacked the fur while I was absent from home 
for six months, and completely ruined it. 

I have made other hunting trips into Colorado, since, 
but secured only deer and some small game. Colorado 
has a good game law, and in a few years all big game 
will be plentiful, again, in that state. 




WYOMING 



CHAPTER III. 

HUNTING ELK, DEER AND BEAR IN WYOMING. MANY 

AMUSING INCIDENTS OF THE TRIP. DIFFICULT 

MOUNTAIN TRAILS. BEAUTIFUL AND RARE 

MOUNTAIN SCENERY. 

After a correspondence extending over several weeks 
with guides in various parts of the country, I decided 
to make Cody, Wyoming, our outfitting point and to 
take Fred as our guide. In company with my good 
friend and hunting companion, H. P. Wright, of Kan- 
sas City, Missouri, we left home September 7th, 1905 
via the Burlington route. No better nor more jovial 
hunting partner ever lived than "H. P.", and any hun- 
ter who has been in the mountains for weeks at a time 
will recognize the importance of the careful selection 
of the make-up of the party, be he guide, companion, 
horse wrangler or dog. Nothing of importance trans- 
pired en route, save on many occasions "H. P." would 
point out a good place for bears, or a dandy retreat for 
elk. The first really ideal bear ground located by him 
was just after we crossed the railroad bridge at Kansas 
City, in Harlem, but as we were headed for Wyoming, 
we decided to continue our trip, and not to hunt where 
the signs were so ancient and scattered. However, it 
required a firm stand on my part to keep down the im- 



46 



Some Big Game Hunts 




Wyomiva Elk in their virter qiiaiiers. 

(Ph t'jrjrapfird by S. N. Lfck) 



pending mutiny, as he repeatedly quoted from Lewis 
and Clark's diary — 1805 — such sentences as this: "June 
17th, 1805, our hunters killed two elk and three bears 
at the mouth of a river six hundred feet wide, putting 
into the Missouri from the West. The Indians call 
it 'Kaw river.' " I must admit that such incidents as 
above quoted had a tendency to weaken my position. 
However, as our tickets read to Cody, Wyoming, and 
return, I stood firm in my position and we proceeded 
without any other evidence of the violation of proper 
discipline. 

We changed cars at Toluca, Montana. Toluca is 
quite a metropolis composed of a depot, a section house, 



Wyoyniny 47 

two Cody hotel signs and a large prairie dog population. 
Here we practiced with a target rifle for an hour or two 
while waiting for the train to leave for Cody, a distance 
of one hundred and thirty miles. This is an all day 
ride, including the stops the engineer and fireman made 
when they went to shoot prairie chickens along the 
right of way. At six o'clock, Saturday, September 
9th, we arrived at Cody, where we were met by Fred. 

The Irma Hotel, owned by "Buffalo Bill," is a hos- 
telry that reflects much credit on the little town of 
Cody. This little town of the Shoshone foot hills is 
a thriving burg of one thousand inhabitants, and is a 
truly typical border or frontier town. Supported as 
it is by ranchmen, miners and cowboys, it presents an 
animation out of all proportion to its size. 

We procured our hunting license that night, paying 
fifty dollars for the privilege of killing two elk, two deer, 
two antelope and one sheep. Very few hunters ever 
secure this amount of game. Early the next morning, 
we loaded our traps into a wagon and started for Judge 
Swenson's, fifty miles up the South fork of the "Stinkin" 
water or Shoshone River — Fred driving and H. P. and 
I taking turns at riding "Jim," the guide's horse. If 
there ever was a horse that could soldier, Jim was the 
animal. He could, when made to try, almost catch 
an elk, but when let to have his own way, he could trot 
as long in the same tracks as any horse I have ever rid- 
den. As we were leaving Cody, we paused long enough 
on the edge of the plateau south of the town to get a 



48 



Sorne Big Game Hunts 



good look at the place, and make some pictures. Just 
where I stood was the bleached and weather-decayed 
skull of a buffalo with horns attached — a silent and 
crumbling monument of this noble and almost extinct 
animal. 

In my fancy for the moment, I could see the vast 
herds as they roamed the grass covered valley below 
me where Cody now stands, and on the surrounding 
hill-tops, I gazed at the red men armed with their bows 
and lances while they were looking the herds over with 
a view to selecting and killing the fattest for their win- 
ter's food, and not for wanton destruction, cruel sport, 
or trophy hunting, as later practiced by white men. 
Faintly in the distance toward the rising sun, I could 
see the steam and smoke from the steamboat as it 




Comparative size of a coyote, black bear and Kodiak brown bear. 



Wyoming 49 

wended its way thiough the sand bar meshes of the 
treacherous Missouri, loaded with whiskey, beads and 
firearms — the first stimulus to the red man to destroy 
and barter the very source of his existance. A buffalo 
robe for a string of beads and the results of a whole 
winter's hunt for a few drinks of cheap whiskey and an 
antiquated gun. I next saw the steel rails being laid 
across the continent, and the locomotive drawing its 
cars loaded with hides, teeth, heads and ruthless tongue 
hunters, then a great fog appeared to settle over the 
scene and I was lost in my reverie until H. P. took hold 
of me and said, "Doctor, come out of it." I looked 
again and I saw the smoke from the hoisting engines 
and heard the blast of dynamite at the site where the 
United States government is building a three million 
dollar dam across the mouth of the south and north 
forks of the Shoshone river, and I realized fully that 
time and progress had wrought many changes, but oh, 
at what a sacrifice and cost to the original owners. 
Modern civilization with its ever increasing demands 
to gratify the restless nature of man has led to the con- 
stant invasion of new territory, and nature has been 
lobbed of some of her most valuable secrets, but in so 
doing, great sacrifices have been made. Whole tribes 
of human beings and all the native fauna and flora, 
with few exceptions, have disappeared with the advent 
of our boasted civilization. 

The American bison, poor brutes, are practically 
extinct. It is almost pathetic when one thinks of the 



50 Some Big Game Hunts 

gradual but sure destruction of this, the noblest of our 
fourfooted American aborigines. A century ago the 
buffalo were distributed over a large area of the United 
States. Lewis and Clark record the killing of these 
animals at the mouth of the Kaw, in 1805. Kansas 
City, with a population of three hundred and fifty 
thousand souls, marks that site today. 

In our middle, southern and northern states, buffalo 
and elk roamed in large herds. The recent discover- 
ies by excavation in Montana and Wyoming of the 
petrified remains of many extinct and prehistoric ani- 
mals bring to mind that it is in exactly this same 
locality that the buffalo, the Indian, the bear, the elk 
and the moose have made a final stand in their endeavor 
to avoid a fate similar to that of their monstrous and 
prehistoric predecessors. 

Within a radius of fifty miles, we find the original of 
our great western water ways, principally the Snake 
and Colorado of the Pacific slope and the Yellowstone 
and Missouri of the Atlantic water shed. This dome 
of our continent, like a mountain peak projecting from 
a large body of water that is surely but slowly creeping 
up its rugged sides and crowding the denizens higher 
and higher for safety is similarly sui-rounded by civil- 
ized man with his indomitable desire to invade new 
territory and conquor the natives by extermination, 
be they beast or human. 

The law makers of Wyoming are to be congratulated 
on their wisdom in extending the game preserve, re- 



Wyoming 



51 



miipHm^^^^p^^^^i^;«ii#«<^' 


nr» -^^^BBI 


"'■'''■^ •• r- 


~¥,|«5» 


-^R^^^uk 4^ 




■pi^ii^^BT^ '^^Rf 


VIM 


JiiSK. 






''^HHHI'- 


'■^^.lltf^^^HW' **'-■ " ■ 




''i^jHHIIlii^ 





"Old Missouri" and Me. 



cently, thirty by sixty miles south of the Yellowstone 
Park. If the legislature would pass an act forbidding 
guides who go in with hunting parties to carry firearms, 
there would not be so many elk killed above the two 
allowed by the present law, to each hunter in one sea- 
son. Females are only too often killed for their scalps. 
Taxidermists find it a remunerative pursuit, where the 
bulls are scarce. They use the female scalps to remount 
moth-eaten or otherwise destroyed scalps of antlered 
trophies. 

After a hard day's travel over fairly good roads, we 
arrived at the "Judges," at six o'clock, where we found 



52 Some Big Game Hunts 

in waiting Charley Workman, guide, and Ben Thomas, 
cook. They had preceded us the day before with six- 
teen head of pack animals consisting of fourteen head 
of mongrels, but be it said to their credit that with one 
or two exceptions they were as sure-footed, faithful 
and trustworthy a bunch as ever went into the moun- 
tains. Of this number, a mule, — Old Missouri — de- 
serves special mention. He was one of the most intel- 
ligent dumb brutes I have ever seen. He could calcu- 
late to the fraction of an inch the space required for 
his pack to pass beneath or between two trees. When 
he came to a boggy place, he would step aside and 
watch others of the pack go through, and if too much 
danger seemed apparent, he would back track to a safer 
crossing. He was sure footed, strong and his gait was 
a sure but slow get there walk. Our saddle horses 
were animals of remarkable endurance, as they were 
required to keep the pack animals in the trail, and thus 
in the course of a day's travel would make three miles 
to one made by the others. In spite of the most care- 
ful "diamond" and "squaw" hitches applied by our 
careful and skilled guides, the packs would become 
displaced occasionally in going over some particularly 
steep trail, or through the closely studded telephone 
pole pine forests. The re-adjusting of these required 
time, and seemingly, the use of a newly-coined vocab- 
ulary on the part of the guides, much to our amuse- 
ment. Really, I did not realize that there were so 
many cuss words, and in fact, there were whole sen- 



Wyoming 53 

tences that, doubtless, had never been used before. 
The guides when talking to the pack animals persisted 
in referring to some remote or near ancestor of the poor 
brutes. I asked them to make it a personal matter 
with the horses addressed, but they said we must begin 
farther back in the family tree, to do the subject jus- 
tice. "One hears much unwreaked vengeance wreaked 
on a trip of this kind." 

They had arranged our tents and had a good supper 
awaiting us, which was enjoyed very much after the 
eight hours jaunt. Judge Swenson deserves more than 
a passing mention. He has really, as he expressed it 
to me, "a little paradise surrounded by hell." "But 
doctor," he said, "you know I never go up in the moun- 
tains." I really believe that the Judge's views were 
correctly applied when it comes to getting over or 
through some of the passes near his paradise. He has 
a beautiful farm all irrigated and very productive. 
His affability and kindness to us, both on going and 
returning, will ever be remembered. His home was 
the last we saw for four weeks, and we fully agreed with 
him on our return, that it was certainly heavenly, 
speaking from an eaithly standpoint. 



CHAPTER IV. 

PACK TRAIN EXPERIENCE; STEEP CLIMBING; GRANB 
MOUNTAIN SCENERY. 

Monday morning, the 11th, we were up early, separ- 
ating the baggage and alloting the loads for the pack 
animals, which was not a small task, by any means. 

We had our first experience with bucking and stiff 
leg high pitching, soon after the second horse was 
loaded. If a rubber broncho had gone crazy, he could 
not have displayed to a better advantage his resiliency, 
than did this cayuse on that occasion. As soon as he 
gave the fiist step after the load was tied on, he pro- 
ceeded to get up in the air in the most ungraceful and 
undignified manner, squealing all the while with every 
bound. His first jump took him over a mowing ma- 
chine, then he straddled a hay rake, next he plunged 
into an alfalfa stack, but finding his endeavors to dis- 
lodge the load futile, he quieted down and proceeded 
to help himself to alfalfa. All the time this equine 
gyration was going on, H. P. was chasing about the 
horse lot, dodging the epithets hurled at the mutinous 
brutes by the guides. 

By ten o'clock we were ready to start on our march 
over the mountains to our hunting grounds. As we 
strung out over the lange of low foot hills near the 



Wyoming 55 

Judge's home, the train looked, in the distance, like a 
string of multi-colored ants. We had not gone more 
than a mile when I heard Ben — our cook — -yell, "Look 
out!" and right above us was a little dun horse loaded 
with our camp stove, "bucking to beat the band." 
He had succeeded in dislodging the stove and the stove 
pipes. The latter were tied through with a sixty-foot 
rope, one end of which was fastened through the pipes 
and the other end was tied to the rest of the pack. The 
noise this made as it bounded from hill-side to the 
cayuse's rump stampeded the whole pack train, and 
such a shaking up of potatoes and other provender I 
have never witnesses, before nor since. We soon got 
them under control, however, and proceeded as before 
the stampede. 

After passing over a range of good sized foot hills, 




Resembled an army of muUi-colored ants. 



56 Some Big Game Hunts 

we crossed Ishvvood Creek, a tributary of the south 
fork of the Shoshone, about two miles from its mouth. 
We then proceeded up the left side of this stream. 

The guides had told us that the Ishwood trail was 
rather difficult in some places, but little did we lealize 
what was in store for us farther on. After traveling 
along on the side of the mountain slopes for six miles, 
we came to the most difficult part of our whole trip — 
Ishwood Hill. Here the trail came to a sudden end, 
and we simply climbed up a rocky chute formed by 
some great upheaval of nature. The steepness of the 
grade which we negotiated seemed hardly possible, 
but I feel quite sure that nothing four-footed but a 
goat or a Wyoming cayuse could have climbed up at 
that angle. Ishwood trail with its difficulties and dan- 
gers will ever remain with me as the nightmare of this 
trip. It is called a trail, I presume, because a moun- 
tain goat or elk had traveled it a year or two before. 
Ther-e are many places on this tr^ail that would cause 
anyone who had not seen a hor*se climb them, to doubt 
if told that a horse could cany a pack over them. In 
some places a blaze could be found on a pine tree, evi- 
dently put ther-e by some one to keep him from attemp- 
ting it the second time. 

We divided the horses between the four riders, as 
that was the only way we could keep the loose animals 
in the trail and prevent crowding on narrow ledges. 
I was driving the last two — "Baldy," loaded with our 
"war bags," and "Dun," the cook stove cayuse. 



Wyoming 57 

There was one of the pack horses that persisted in 
leaving the trail at the most inopportune times. It 
mattered little to him whether it was a sprig of grass a 
hundred feet from the trail, a precipitous mass of slide 
rock, or a leaning tree that would dislodge his pack, 
that was held out to him as an inducement. "Old 
Baldy," as he was called in civilized language, was cer- 
tainly the limit when it came to giving trouble, and the 
remarks that the guide made about his ancestors would 
certainly fill a volume that would not be used as a text- 
book by a reformer. In fact, I am sure that new words 
and whole sentences were coined on this trip, to meet 
the pack driving indications. 

When we arrived at a point on the trail where it di- 
verged to the right between two perpendicular rocks, 
only eight feet apart, the bottom filled with loose earth 
and sloping upward almost perpendicularly, my two 
charges left the trail and stepped over a little back- 
bone of rock into a steep collection of loose soil and 
crumbling, detached rocks. They could not maintain 
their footing, so they delibertely sat down and slid into 
Ishwood creek, three hundred yards away. I thought 
our personal belongings in the "war bags" were surely 
lost, as they disappeared over a ten foot bank into the 
creek. Charley and Fred followed them, sliding the 
same way as did the horses. They led the brutes a 
mile down the creek before they could get them into 
the trail again. They were gone fully an hour. All 
this time I was standing in a very dangerous place, 



58 



Some Big Game Hunts 




Ml/ N(((/(//,(_' hur.-^c. 



holding on to my horse lest he should fall, while H. P. 
was in an equally perilous position just above me. 

We finally got strung out again on the trail (?) and such 
climbing by animals without claws was never done be- 
fore. After repeated stops for rest and breath, we 
reached the summit, "all in." We traveled three miles 
farther where we struck camp at Buffalo Bill's old 
camping place of the year before. Here we saw the 
first elk signs. I shall ever remember the steep places 
I climbed that night in my dreams, and the horrible 
sights I beheld in my nightmare fancies — horses going 
over precipices, and men falling to bottomless canons, 
to be mangled beyond recognition. I awakened several 
times during the night and looked out from my tent 
upon a scene that was inspiring in its grandeur. The 



Wyoming 59 

full moon with its subdued light, and the dark shadows 
of the high mountain peaks, reaching across deep ra- 
vines like phantom bridges made a picture that only 
lacked the grotesque, shrouded figures to complete the 
stage settings of a vast amphitheater whose actors were 
the hobgoblins of one's childhood dreams and fears — 
realized. 

The weather on most of this trip was of the kind that 
invigorates the lover of outdoor air and bright sunshine. 
He who goes into the mountains to hunt and kill, only, 
and calls that a vacation, does not reap the full benefit 
of his outing. "Nature's book is ever open to all who 
enter her domain, and to refuse to scan its pages of well 
written and valued truths, is to show a want of proper 
appreciation of the good things set before us, and a 
squandering of valuable time while erasing the uncut 
pages of her precious volume." 

On a trip of this character, many virgin ravines and 
cliffs are viewed by a white man for the first time, and 
he would be a dull observer if he did not profit by such 
a lesson. The untrodden solitude of some of the can- 
ons we hunted in was grand to behold. 

At several places near the timber line, I found large 
pieces of petrified wood, some of which we broke into 
proper sizes for whet stones. I had them polished on 
my return to Kansas City. The wood of these pre- 
historic trees was certainly different from any gi'owing 
in that vicinity at the present day. I found in two 
or three places marine (seemingly) shells imbedded in 



60 Some Big Game Hunts 

the softer rocks of these mountains. Being a collect- 
or of mound builders' and other pre-historic imple- 
ments and flints, I kept a close lookout for such, finding 
only one flint flake near the Yellowstone river. When 
one recalls the fact that the only body of obsidian in 
the Rockies is to be found one hundred miles north of 
where we were hunting, and that the Indian abor- 
igines congregated there as a neutral point to collect 
war and hunting supplies, one would naturally expect 
to pick up many obsidian arrow points and flakes 
dropped in that vicinity by the vanquishing natives, 
but I did not find a single point. 

Nature unadorned is seen on all sides on these trips, 
and great pleasure is to be had in traveling through 
the unsurveyed canons, gazing on unharnessed water 
falls. An eagle's nest far up on the mountain-side, 
built in a place most inaccessible to both man and beast, 
elicites a profound admiration for the sagacity of this 
noble bird, and the little striped ground squirrel, as he 
busies himself, unaware of your presence, or rather not 
fearing a stranger, in gathering pine cones and storing 
them away for his winter's use, is an evidence of thi ift, 
always enjoyed by the lover of Nature. To see the 
graceful little fellow as he chatteringly runs to the top 
of a pine tree to his work, and to watch him as he cuts 
and shoves the pine cones from their attachment and 
seemingly, in a careless manner drops them to the 
ground, makes one admire him both for his sagacity 
and for the untiring zeal with which he goes about his 



Wyoming 61 

work of providing for a rainy day. When he has 
stripped the trees of their cones, he proceeds to gather 
them together by the side of some old, fallen tree, or 
perchance in the crevices of some rock nearby. I have 
seen piles of pine cones three feet high and four feet 
across the base that had been gathered by these intel- 
ligent and interesting little rodents. Bless his beau- 
tiful, striped, little skin! I love him for his hospitality, I 
admire him for his wisdom, and congratulate him on 
his home surroundings with their fresh air, bright sun- 
light and grand scenery. May the source of his food 
supply ever yield him an abundant harvest, and his 
practical wisdom protect him from his enemies. 

On Tuesday morning, the 12th, we broke camp at 
ten o'clock and continued up the left bank of Ishwood 
creek for ten miles, where we crossed the creek and 
climbed a steep mountain that was covered with fine 
timber and soil very rich and deep. This led us into 
Ishwood pass, a long but narrow depression between 
two very tall peaks, towering above the timber line. 
In fact, the pass was over eleven thousand feet high. 
The peak to our right was Ishwood Cone; the one to 
the left. Castle Peak. Large glacier-like heaps of snow 
and ice, the silent messengers of the rigid weather of 
many winters, were piled into the depressions or ravines 
on either side of the pass. The wind was traveling at 
a hurricane speed, as we moved along, chilling us un- 
pleasantly, as our underclothing was damp from the 
exertion of the climb just completed. Sheep Moun- 



62 



Some Big Game Hunts 



tain, looking east from the pass, presented a most mag- 
nificent scene. This tange of barren rock and tall peaks, 
some of which are over twelve thousand feet high, is 
a favorite abiding-place for the big horn sheep. 

Just as we began our descent on the head water of 
Pass Creek, we stopped for lunch and to re-adjust the 
packs. Soon after starting, we saw to our left, a band 
of eighteen elk. The season was not yet opened, so 
we contented ourselves by admiring them as they 
strung themselves out on the side of the mountain in 
making their escape. 

We camped that night where Pass Creek empties 
into the Thoroughfare. While supper was being pre- 
pared, H. P. and I caught several fine trout from the 
latter creek, using a gray hackle fly. During the early 




Ishwood Pass, Sheep Mountain in the distance. 



Wyoming 63 

evening, we heard an elk bugling. We had traveled 
twenty-two miles that day over fairly good roads. 

Wednesday, the 13th, we traveled in the Yellow- 
stone Timber Reserve and approached the southeast 
corner of Yellowstone Park, rounding the western 
terminus of Hawk's Rest Mountain, and leaving Brid- 
ger lake a mile to our right. We then entered the flats 
of the Yellowstone River, and a more beautiful sight 
would be hard to find. The gi'ass was waist high, over- 
run here and there with a clump of stunted willows. 
Running through its center is the Yellowstone River, 
while on either side were numerous characteristic 
beaver canals with their grass-grown borders and ab- 
rupt, precipitous banks. The river at this point is a 
mere brook as compared to its size at the exit from 
Lake Yellowstone, a few miles farther north. We 
traveled up the right bank of Atlantic Creek to its be- 
ginning, about ten miles south, and here we camped at 
Two Ocean Pass, a continental dividing point, the alti- 
tude being about nine thousand, five hundred feet. A 
beautiful little spring, with its sparkling waters flowing 
from beneath a glacial deposited rock, marks a division 
point of our continental watershed. Two tiny streams 
from the spring separate here; one wends its way 
toward the East, the other courses westward. The 
former adds its mite to the "Father of Waters" and 
the .great Atlantic, while the latter is a feeder to the 
mighty Columbia and the vast Pacific. During the 
night we were serenaded by a pack of wolves. A single 



64 Some Big Game Hunts 

wolf gave the key note, then it was taken up in a most 
discordant manner by the whole lupus tribe in that 
vicinity, and echoed as it was on that still, frosty night 
by every mountain peak, the whole world about us 
seemed to be one vast kennel, filled with these howling 
wild dogs. These mountain scavengers are a harmless 
cowardly, loathsome set, whose only mission on earth 
seems to be to eat grasshoppers, carrion and the refuse 
rejected by other beasts, and to make night hideous 
with their unmusical, howling serenades, intimidating 
the tenderfoot hunter and disturbing the sleep of the 
veteran. It seems paradoxical that we loathe above 
all others the wolf and the buzzard, whose food is the 
disease-breeding refuse that is revolting to our more 
refined tastes. 

The camera, or rather the pictures made with it on 
this trip have been a source of much pleasure to me 
since my return, as in my long winter-evening hours I 
frequently take down my photograph album and live 
over the pleasures, difficulties and hardships of the 
outing. The thoughts of the latter, even in imagin- 
ation, bring pleasant remembrances of the courage and 
fortitude shown in overcoming the same. This high 
range of mountains and that beautiful camp site are 
truthfully recorded by the camera, and might have been 
lost to my memory had I not made a permanent record 
to which I could turn in a moment of forgetfulness. 
A number of my choice pictures, enlarged to eighteen 
by twenty-four are hanging in my den among my most 



Wyoming 65 

highly prized mementos of this and other hunting trips. 
Beautiful and rare gems of Nature's carving from gran- 
ite mountains, emei'ald lakes, set in a multi-colored 
mountain canon, oi perchance a grizzly bear, or a bull 
elk ai'e faithfully recorded by the camera for futur-e 
pleasing reference for oneself and friends. There are 
many traits of animal life ahnost peculiar to the elk, 
an understanding of which is of much aid to the hunter, 
and of great interest to him who would learn of the hab- 
its of this rapidly disappearing and noble animal. 

Thursday, the 14th, after crossing the Yellowstone 
River, we traveled across the Wyoming game reserve. 
Too much credit cannot be given to the law-makers 
of this state for setting apart this tract of land, thirty 
by sixty miles to the -south of the National Park, as a 
game preserve. Not a gun can be fired here without 
subjecting the hunter to a heavy fine. If the game 
wardens will continue to arrest poachers, and refrain 
from unlawful killing and trapping, themselves, it will 
take many years to exterminate the game in this part 
of the state. Of course, the hunters will continue to 
kill game right up to the borders of the park and this 
I'eservation. However, the elk very soon learn where 
it is unsafe to go. 

From Two Ocean Pass we followed up a branch of 
Pacific Creek to the crest of the range, where we des- 
cended a long, steep mountain, to the north fork of 
Buffalo Creek, which we followed for ten miles to its 
junction with the south fork. Here we crossed Buffalo 



m 



Some Big Game Hunts 




The pleasures of camp life arc memories ever to be enjoyed. 



Creek and located our permanent camp on the left 
bank, just where the two forks join. This is an ideal 
camping place, good grazing for our horses, plenty of 
fire- wood, cold, clear water, fine trout fishing right at 
our tents, and with good elk country near at hand. 
What more could we ask? 

We soon had our camp arranged and put in order 
for the next day — "open season." After a five days' 
horseback ride over extremely rough trails, one is natur- 
ally expected to be tired. However, H. P. and I were 
not so played out but that we caught a good string of 
trout for supper. Our guns were overhauled, and am- 
munition put out for an early start next morning. We 



Wyoming 67 

sat up in our cook tent (reception room) until late, 
listening to the hunting stories as told by Ben, our cook. 

The pleasures of camp life are memories ever to be 
enjoyed in after years, when, in reminiscent mood, one 
goes over his outing trip. The snapping of the dry, 
pine boughs as they are thrown on the camp fire, the 
tongues of flame as they dart upward like lightening 
flashes to disappear into the halo of darkness amid 
meteor-like fire sparks is a picture so firmly and pleas- 
antly fixed on one's memory that he will long to live 
his trip over again. All the unpleasant occurrences, 
the hardships endured and the disappointment met 
with are soon forgotten, and in their stead one thinks 
only of the camp fire affability, of the story-swapping 
experiences, of sound, restful sleep, good appetites and 
digestion, and the lucky catch of that big trout, or the 
grand scenery witnessed while tracking elk, deer, bear 
or moose. My friend, be you hunter or fisherman, do 
you not agree with me? Suppose we go again next 
year. 

Ben's experience as a sheep herder would make an 
interesting volume on an occupation that will soon be 
a lost art. He is a well educated man, and could re- 
cite his experiences in a most fascinating manner. 

At every camping place, as soon as we began to re- 
move the packs and pitch our tents, the "camp thieves" 
would begin to congregate in the trees about us. They 
evidently anticipated a feast. These birds are a pe- 
culiar set, having very little or no fear of man, and are 



68 .Some Big Game Hunts 

possessed with a cunning rarely found in birds, and an 
indomitable desire to pick up and carry away any food 
left where they can get it. On several occasions one of 
these robbers stole the bread or meat from our plates 
while we were pouring a cup of coffee, or had our backs 
turned for an instant. They are about the size of a 
domestic pigeon, pale blue in color with very dark eyes, 
and possessing voices very unmusical and of limited 
range. 

All the clear, cold, swift running streams in the ter- 
ritory hunted over on this trip were alive with the gam- 
est of trout. The Buffalo fork afforded especially good 
sport. Many enjoyable hours were spent in casting 
a gray hackle, a coachman, or a professor fiy, and land- 
ing these gamest of all fish. One day, while wading 
this stream, my attention was drawn to an object of 
unusual shape in the bottom of a still pool. I picked 
it up and it proved to be an exact mould of the skull 
of a monkey, the size being that of a full grown ape. 
The nasal fossa was in the right position above the max- 
illary slit, and the orbits were in their normal place. 
This specimen comes as near being a petrified monkey 
skull as was evei discover^ed in North America. 

While resting on a dead pine log one afternoon, 1 
saw a small, dark object creeping from rock to rock, or 
from behind one dead and fallen log to another. I sat 
as quietly as possible, that I might discover the char- 
acter of the varmint and its habits. I was soon able 
to tell that it belonged to the mink family and that it 



Wyoming 



69 



was a pine martin. It was stalking some object just 
behind a large detached rock about thirty yards from 
me. I next discovered the object of the animal's pur- 
suit — a snow shoe rabbit. The poor rabbit seemed to 
be completely mesmerized by its enemy, as it wa.s 
making no effort to escape, while apparently looking 
directly at the martin. I watched them until they 
were ten feet apart, and then my sympathy for the 
rabbit so completely overcame my interest in the dis- 
puted question as to how a mink captures and kills its 
prey that I bounded to my feet and threw a stone at 
the assassin and rushed closer to them. The mink 
did not want to leave the premises at all, as he ran onl y 
a few yards and crouched under a fallen tree in plain 
view and remained there. I had to almost kick the 




Wa»h day. 



70 So7ne Big Game Hunts 

rabbit, in order to make him move from his mesmeric 
rooted position. I am sure that martin had snow shoe 
rabbit for his supper that night. 

That we did not have a niggardly diet list can be 
shown by our bill of fare, a sample of which is given 
here: 

BREAKFAST SUPPER 



Oat Meal, Olives, Chili Sauce, 

Fried Young Grouse, Fried Trout with Bacon, 
German Fried Potatoes, Venison Stew, 

Venison Tenderloin, Elk Tenderloin, Fried, 

Broiled with Bacon, Potatoes, Tomatoes, Peas, 
Hot Biscuit, Canned Peaches, 

Buckwheat Cakes, Maple Apple Pie, Cheese, Jelly, 
Syrup, Coffee. Coffee, Pipes. 

DINNER 



Tomato Soup, 

Short Ribs of Elk Roast, 

Potatoes, Corn, Onions, 

Hot Corn Bread, 

Canned Cherries, 

Cheese, Coffee, Cigars. 

With such an appetite as one has while hunting, this 

list was none too extensive. After all, we derive much 

pleasure in this life from what we eat, how we sleep, 

what we see, and how we look at it. 

If one has a capricious stomach, that resents even 



Wyoming 71 

the suggestion of dirt, let him go on a trip of this kind 
and I will guarantee that ere he returns he will be able, 
with no fear of offending his digestive organs, to brush 
the dust off from a dried biscuit, or pick out the elk 
hairs from his gravy, and besides, he will enjoy the di- 
version. He will also return with a ravenous appetite, 
a cast iron digestion, new blood coursing through his 
arteries and veins, renewed interest in his office and 
other duties, and a firm resolution to return to the 
mountains and woods again the next year. 

We listened longingly for elk bugling their challenges 
during the early part of the evening, but not a note did 
we hear. Fred, who has hunted several seasons in 
this vicinity, was very much disappointed, as he had 
assured us that we would hear bugling on all sides at 
the mouth of the Buffalo. The next morning we were 
awakened early for breakfast. The air was cold and 
crisp, and an inch of ice had formed on still water dur- 
ing the night. (September 14th, altitude 9,000 ft.) 
Fred and I started out directly south of the camp, 
while H. P. and Charley went southwest, or down the 
left side of the Buffalo. Near our camp we passed a 
fine six point head that Fred had cached the year before. 
We hunted faithfully up the side of the mountain to 
the top of a very high, barren, nameless peak. On the 
way up we saw some fresh elk signs and heard one dis- 
tant bugle. At one of our resting places — it was steep 
climbing — we feasted on raspberries. We crossed to 
the south, over a long, narrow back-bone of a ridge and 



72 Some Big Game Hunts 

took our lunch by the side of a beautiful little moun- 
tain stream. In the afternoon we hunted back, and 
when within two miles of camp we entered a deep, 
narrow, heavily timbered canon, where we saw oui' 
first bear signs. By the footprints and color of hair- 
on the gum on the spruce trees, we were convinced 
that both black and grizzly bear were making this 
canon their home. The remains of a cow elk that had 
been devoured was found, and we saw a bear wallow 
that had been used that same day. We hunted this 
territory carefully, but no bear was discovered. 

Near our permanent camp were numerous and fresh 
bear signs, where bruin had either been having a feast 
on berries, rubbing his shaggy back against a fallen 
tree, or taking a mud bath in some elk or bear wallow. 
The size of the footprints, shape of claw impressions 
in the mud and color of the hair left sticking in the 
spruce gum indicated that both black and grizzlies were 
in that neighborhood. We were fortunate enough to 
see three black bears, but they were beyond rifle range, 
and as we had no dogs, we soon lost them. Next to 
the mountain lion, the black bear is the most alert big 
game today in the Rockies, and fortunate is he who 
gets within rifle shot of one of these wary animals with- 
out the assistance of dogs or bear bait. 



CHAPTER V. 

MOVED CAMP. SAW BULL ELK. SOME ELK TRAITS. 
ELK BUGLING. MY FIRST ELK. 

We arrived at camp about five o'clock, convinced 
that no great number of elk was to be found in that 
vicinity, and began arrangements to make a side trip 
farther up the south fork on the next morning. H. P. 
and Charley returned about the same time, and re- 
ported that they had seen a few cow elk, but no bulls 
with good antlers. 

The next morning, September 16th, we took two 
pack animals and our four saddlers and struck up the 
south fork of the Buffalo. Two miles from camp we 
found a beautiful little lake of a few acres extent, and 
grazing on its grass-bordered shore was a beautiful 
chestnut sorrel horse that had strayed from some hun- 
ter, or perchance its owner had been killed by accident 
or a grizzly, thus swelling the list, by one, of the un- 
returned. 

We crossed the stream frequently within a few miles. 
One of the most beautiful meadows I have ever seen 
in the Rockies was traversed on this trip. As we were 
going through this meadow, we saw a large bull elk on 
the top of a mountain five miles away, standing out in 
bold relief against the clear blue sky, like a beautifully 



74 Some Big Game Hunts 

carved medallion. Even the experienced eye will often 
be deceived in the flood of dazzling, free-from-dust 
atmosphere of the Rockies. He looked to be only a 
mile away. 

What hunter has not heard of the rim rock of the 
Rockies, with the long, tedious climb to reach it each 
day, while hunting elk? It is just beneath its pro- 
jecting and gloomy shadows where late in the season 
the best grazing is to be found. The winter's snow 
disappears last at this point. The trees here are more 
dwarfed and scattered, leaving many beautiful little 
park grazing places for the elk. 

Wyoming has more than hei share of rim rock. In 
fact, she has enough for the whole world, if it were pro- 
perly distributed, and this grand state, it seems to me, 
has more of Nature exposed than any bear country over 
which I have ever hunted. 

The hunter, who each morning crawls from between 
his blankets with stiffened muscles, aching joints and 
vivid recollections of the hard climb the day before to 
rim rock or barren craig above timber line, and is 
willing and ready to make the journey again in quest 
of the game whose tracks he saw the day before, is cer- 
tainly an enthusiastic individual and deserving of 
every trophy thus obtained; for who of us have not 
resolved never to make the climb again, as we, at dusk, 
turned our face toward the camp, miles away, when 
we were so tired, hungry and keenly disappointed at 
not finding the owners of the feet whose tracks were to 



Wyoming 75 

be seen at every turn? The hard climb over dead and 
fallen trees, the careful foot work up rocky precipices, 
the rapid heart beats, the panting respiration, the dry 
tongue from high altitudes and mouth breathing, and 
the sweat-covered face and body are all vivid pictures 
painted on memory's canvas by the artist — experience. 

Who would not endure these hardships for the thrills 
of excitement incident to witnessing a band of elk in their 
native haunts, a mountain sheep in his fearless and daring 
leaps over rock-walled mountain peaks in his flight for 
safety, or perchance a grizzly in his rapid, but awkward 
and lumbering gait over the dead and fallen trees! 
Thoughts like these with the pure, invigorating air 
give new life and renew one's hopes for better success 
in the future, and he is up early next morning and ready 
to make the climb "just one more time." In after 
years the hardships entailed, the difficulties overcome 
and the dangers braved are the most cherished mem- 
ories of the trip. 

This grass laden oasis, with its wall of a thousand 
feet in height, is accessible by trail only at two points. 
At the upper end of this meadow we turned to the south 
and up a small stream for a mile or two, then turned 
east again, following a faint elk trail and climbing some 
very steep places, passed through two or three miles 
of fine pine timber. Our camp site was on the right 
bank of a small stream coming from the northeast, just 
below its junction with another stream heading from 



76 Some Big Game Hunts 

the highest mountain peak in that neighborhood. We 
made camp at two in the afternoon. 

A bull elk, during bugling time, has his family troub- 
les. He must keep a constant and watchful eye on 
the fickle and rolicking members of his harem, lest 
they desert him for a noisy rival. It is indeed inter- 
esting to see one of these antlered sultans with a large 
band of cows about him, in his antics among his ad- 
miring spouses, pawing the earth with his feet; again, 
with his head in a clump of stunted pines, tearing them 
to pieces with his horns as though they wei'e an imag- 
inary foe — in another instant, with his nose high in the 
air and his antlers over his shoulders, giving forth a 
defiant bugle to some rival bull elk on a distant moun- 
tain peak, and all the while keeping a jealous eye on 
the members of his household. If the band is fright- 
ened by an enemy, they are off in an instant, the master 
bull usually bringing up in the rear lest some cow elk 
should lag and stray from his flock. This herding dis- 
position of the bull only too often leads to his des- 
truction at the hands of the experienced hunter, who 
will wait patiently and watch for him at the rear of the 
fleeing band. 

Schilling's (1906 With Flashlight and Rifle) in writ- 
ing of this characteristic trait says of the water buck: 
"A species of antelope found in German East Afi'ica, 
The females always give the alarm, the bucks foiming 
the rear guards of the fugitive troops." 

We left camp at five o'clock, P. M., and climbed 



Wyoming 77 

along a narrow, steep range of mountains to the timber 
line. Here we found beautiful grazing spots where 
the snows of the previous winter had last disappeared. 
In these grassy places numerous fresh elk signs were 
to be seen. It was "bugling time" of the year, and on 
the distant mountain sides could be heard the peculiar 
challenge of some majestic bull elk, as he surveyed his 
harem and defied his rivals to engage in a test of courage 
and strength to dethrone him. This challenge was 
invariably answered, either by his equal in power or 
by some weakling "five-pointer," who had been driven 
from the band by an older bull, or who having recog- 
nized his own weakness had involuntarily retired to a 
safe distance to await the coming of another point on 
his antlers, when he too could collect about himself a 
throng of admiring females and would then be able to 
enter into a more hopeful contest for supremacy. 

While thus held spell-bound by the grand concert of 
these mountain buglers — whose stage was the rocky 
walled heights at timber line, the amphitheatre the 
depths of the dark canons, the seats, the mountain crags 
and the roof the blue dome of heaven — within a few 
hundred yards of us came the loud challenge of one of 
these mountain sultans. We were off in an instant, 
slowly, carefully and noiselessly creeping towards him, 
taking particular pains to keep in a direction that he 
could not "wind" us. 

Just as we reached the timber line, where the pines 
were mere little bunches of stunted underbrush, my 



78 Some Big Game Hunts 

guide whispered, "There he is." I had discovered 
him at the same instant. Surrounded as he was by 
his band of cows and calves, he lool^ed "the monarch 
of the glen." With the gallantry of a true lover and 
noble lord, he slowly emerged from his cover, and while 
his lady loves made a hasty escape, his deliberation 
invited his own destruction. As he emerged into the 
opening I fired, aiming at his left shoulder. The ball, 
from a 45-70 Winchester, reached the spot exactly, but 
my aim was a little too far forward. At the next shot 
he fell to his knees, the guide remarking, "You cer- 
tainly have him this time." As we approached him, he 
turned his noble head towards us, seeming to realize 
that we were the one enemy of whom, for ages, inher- 
itance had installed him a fear above all others. With 
a desperate effort he bounded to his feet again and 
turned squarely toward us. His very attitude seemed 
to say, "Why should I be afraid of these mere pigmies, 
when I have so often vanquished greater foes?" This 
defiance was only temporary, for he immediately 
wheeled and started in the opposite direction, when a 
well directed shot brought him down for good. As I 
walked up to him, he raised his magnificent head 
crowned as it was by a headgear grander, more beauti- 
ful and more handsomely bedecked by Nature's jewels 
than that of royalty, and in his dying agony he gave 
forth a most defiant bugle that seemed to say that even 
in death there is victory. 

He was a fine specimen, weighing fully one thousand 



Wyoming 



79 




-««y^>'"T»!K'y22S:' 



"Is it riyhf"! 



pounds. His antlers had six points, the crown points 
measuring twenty-one inches, the royals twenty-two; 
length of horns four feet six inches and spread four feet 
four inches. This head I had mounted and it now 
adorns the front hall of my home. As I stood and 
looked at this monarch of the Rockies, just where he 
fell on the crest of our continent on that beautiful Sep- 
tember evening, as the sun was disappearing behind 



80 Some Big Game Hunts 

the Tetons, sixty miles away, I really felt that I had 
committed a serious crime, and that I had selected one 
of God's grandest, most innocent and rarest creatures 
as my victim. 

When the guide had removed the scalp and the head 
with its magnificent ornamentations, my eyes sorrow- 
fully turned toward that thousand pounds of elk whose 
life I had taken, and I thought of the Iggorrotes at the 
World's Fair, who commanded so much attention be- 
cause they were known as the uncivilized head hunters 
of the Pacific Islands. 

Slowly and reflectively I found my way back to 
camp. That night, during my waking hours, I thought 
often, is it worth the price? Is it right? 

The next morning after killing my big elk, Fred and 
I hunted up to the body of the elk, and I made a picture 
of him, just as he fell. We then put in a few hours in 
that vicinity without finding any fresh signs, and re- 
turned to the camp in time for dinner. H. P. and Fred 
went out again in the afternoon, while Charlie and I 
hunted to the northward, toward Buffalo Creek. We 
saw many fresh bear signs where bruin had been looking 
for his food. At one point he had turned over many 
logs and large flat stones in his search for bugs and 
mice. It is remarkable how these big animals evade 
the hunter, not even giving him a glance at their shaggy 
pelts as they steal away on his approach 



CHAPTER VI. 

ELK AND WOLF FIGHTING. TETON MOUNTAINS. SNOW 
STORM. MY SECOND ELK. 

I had the rare opportunity of witnessing a fight be- 
tween a gray wolf and a spike bull elk one afternoon. 
It had been snowing very hard, a moist, soft snow that 
made traveling on foot very disagreeable, though noise- 
less. As I approached a little meadow on the right 
side of the mountain, just at the foot of the "rim rock," 
I saw a bull elk running in a cii'cle of about one hundred 
feet in diameter, and in front of him was a wolf, keep- 
ing just far enough ahead to be out of danger. After 
keeping this up for five minutes, a larger and older bull 
made his appearance. The wolf, seeing this addition 
to the arena, beat a hasty retreat. The next day I 
killed a wolf in that vicinity, presumably the one I saw 
fighting the elk on the day before. I hunted this after- 
noon with Charley, and about four o'clock I had the 
opportunity of my life to witness the magnificent sight 
of the Tetons, sixty miles away, taking on their win- 
ter's garment — the first of the season. As these grand, 
rocky peaks, with their points projected fourteen 
thousand feet into space were being robed in this shroud 
of Nature's purest white, it seemed especially fitting 
as they appeared nearest heaven. While the sun was 



82 Some Big Game Hunts 

shining brightly where we were hunting, this under- 
taker, — the snow god — was clothing these distant peaks 
for their annual death slumber. I thought of the eons 
during which this grand panorama had been produced, 
and how rarelj^ it had been witnessed by the eyes of 
man. The silent grandeur of this pantomime by Nat- 
ure's actors must be seen to be appreciated. While 
thus enchantingly watching this embalming process 
of Nature, the sun disappeared, and large flakes of snow 
began to fall. Such were the size of these pulverized 
ice sheets that it reminded me of myriads of damp 
cigarette papers turned loose from the clouds to gently 
pave the earth and hanging, as they did, from every 
pine cone and needle, the scene was quickly converted 
into one vast world filled with Christmas trees, decor- 
ated with tinsel and gorgeously bedecked candelabra. 
Amid scenes like this, one is richly paid for the hardships 
endured in negotiating difficult trails and mountain passes. 

We were slowly going toward camp, the snow making 
our footsteps noiseless, when I saw something jump 
quickly into an opening eighty yards away. I fired, 
knowing that it was a game animal of some kind. 
When I reached the spot I found that I had killed a 
large gray wolf. We removed his pelt and with it his 
head and continued our tramp toward camp, which we 
reached about dusk. 

Twilight in the Rockies is only a subdued flash, 
filling the gap between day and night. We found that 
the snow, now six inches deep, had hidden all our pro- 



Wyoming 83 

visions and cooking utensils, and that our bedding was 
water logged, as we did not take a tent with us on this 
little side trip from our main camp at the fork of the 
Buffalo. Our elk tenderloin was snowed under, our 
bacon was frozen, the coffee was filled with snow and 
the fire extinguished. Accepting the situation as a 
legitimate part of the primitive surroundings, we soon 
had a fire started and supper under way. It was now 
dark as a coal mine, still snowing, and we had not the 
semblance of a tent in which to sleep, and to add to our 
discomfort and anxiety, our hunting partners had not 
returned. The invigorating effect of good camp coffee 
was never better tested than on this occasion. After 
supper we cut pine boughs for our beds and rigged up 
a "lean to" with saddle blankets. About nine o'clock 
H. P. and Fred arrived, hungry, tired and disgusted at 
their poor success in getting a big elk that was badly 
wounded. 

I have never slept more soundly in my life than in 
that improvised bed chamber. During the night the 
clouds cleared away and the full moon with its snow 
reflections made a scene of marble beauty unsurpassed. 

What a pleasure it is to sleep in the bosom of the un- 
housed night, with the unlimited blue dome above you, 
studded with stars like myriads of arc lights winking 
you to sleep. 

The elk that had been feeding high in the mountains, 
taking warning of this harbinger of winter and hidden 
grasses, busied themselves in getting to lower altitudes. 



84 



Some Big Game Hunts 



Several times during the night we could hear them pas- 
sing, some in pairs, some in herds, and a single elk, 
perchance driven from the band, would occasionally 
go strolling by. 

Wednesday, the 18th, we hunted in this vicinity for 
a few hours, but noticing that all the elk tracks were 
going down the mountain toward our Buffalo fork 
camp, we pulled out after them. We had traveled 
about two miles through some very heavy pine timber 
and were just emerging into an open glade, when half 
a dozen cow elk started across this open space with a 
good sized bull, bearing six point antlers, following. 
Fred jumped from his horse and called to me to do the 
same, which I had already done. I fired two shots, 
both reaching the mark. This elk fell in his tiacks 







^^Mfj^'h^W^ 




,'mmmm 


1 



A pause at Umber line. 



Wyoming 85 

with the last shot, the ball hitting him in the neck. It 
was one hundred and eighty yards from where I stood 
to the point where he fell. I photographed him, re- 
moved the scalp and head and selected the best part 
of the animal for our camp meat. With nothing more 
of special interest occurring on our way, we arrived at 
our permanent camp at six that afternoon, where we 
found Ben awaiting our return. 

The next morning was clear and cool, and the still- 
ness of this mountainous seclusion was marvelous, as 
the neighing of a pony was echoed from peak to canon 
and back again, until the sound was so diluted by space 
that its resonance was lost in the distance. We hunted 
faithfully all day without finding any game. 

The next morning H. P. decided that he would not 
hunt, so the guides took a long trip, but without success. 
During the day I took "Sport," the dog, and a "twenty 
two," and went two miles up the mountain to kill some 
gi'ouse, or "fool hens," as they are called. The latter 
name is applied to this bird because of the silly habit 
it has of alighting on a limb near the ground and per- 
mitting itself to be stoned or clubbed to death by any- 
one who can throw accurately or long enough to ac- 
cidently hit it. I killed a number while on this trip 
by hitting them with stones. 

While looking for grouse, I discovered fresh bear 
signs, both grizzly and black. I hurried back to camp 
and secured my 45-70 Winchester and returned, but was 
never able to get a glimpse of the bear, and presume 



86 



Some Big Game Hunts 



from subsequent events that it was a good thing for 
me that I did not run across "Old Four Toes." Such 
it proved, afterwards, to be, yet I would have gladly 
taken a shot at the old fellow. The next week, Fred 
returned to the same spot and found this old bear , and 
how he killed it is best told in his own language, as pub- 
lished in "Outdoor Life," for April, 1906. 




CHAPTER VII. 

YELLOWSTONE RIVER CAMP. MORE ELK. HOMEWARD 

BOUND. 

We broke camp and started toward the Yellowstone 
River, where we expected to camp for a few days and 
hunt on the head waters of this stream. We camped 
about four miles from Bridger lake, just south of Hawk's 
Rest Mountain. During the day we saw three large, 
black bears, but they were about a mile away and run- 
ning for dear life, so we did not try to overtake them. 
We remained here three days, hunting in various di- 
rections, seeing a great many elk. The only big horn sheep 
signs discovered while on this trip were near this camp. 
We also saw five moose while here, but as they are pro- 
tected by the Wyoming game law, they were not dis- 
turbed. In this vicinity we added to our larder some 
of the finest venison I have ever tasted. Just under 
the towering shadow of this tall mountain, H. P. se- 
cured a fine seven point elk. 

It began raining that day, and continued a slow 
drizzle all night. H. P. and I having our limit on elk, 
and it not being a sheep, goat or deer territory, we 
broke camp and turned our horses' heads toward home. 
We camped that night near Castle Rock and Ishwood 



88 



Some Big Game Hunts 




Our camp on the Yellow Stone River. 



Cone, the latter being the highest peak within a radius 
of sixty miles. 

The next day we crossed Ishwood Pass and made 
camp on Ishwood Creek, about four o'clock. The 
guides made a side trip this afternoon and killed a fair 
sized elk. During the night, H. P. was awakened by 
a noise near his tent. The next morning an investi- 
gation showed that a good-sized "bobcat" had visited 
his tent and made an effort to get at something to eat. 
The tracks were undoubtedly "bob" tracks. 

The following morning our last day's pack was begun 
and a pack over Ishwood Hill is no small undertaking. 
Days of hunting and minor hardships had not in the 
least dimmed the picture of the terrible climb we had 
made on the out-going trip. The down-going we found 



Wyoming 89 

was, if anything, more difficult and dangerous than the 
up-hill climb. The rocks in many places were wet, and 
the horses' shoes were either off or so slick as to be of 
very little service to them, but we had only one mishap. 
A little iron gray pony lost her footing and slipped back- 
ward into a trough-like depression, sliding a hundred 
feet, yet stopping within ten feet of a precipice, five 
hundred feet deep. She regained her feet, neighed 
appealingly to the more fortunate members of the pack, 
and climbed back into the trail. 

We reached the "Judge's" about five o'clock, and to 
call his home a paradise is expressing it mildly. We 
had been in the mountains four weeks and had not 
seen anyone save our own party and one or two game 
wardens. 

We camped at his place and the next day we drove 
into Cody and took the train for home, arriving in 
Kansas City two days later. Thus ended one of the 
most enjoyable of my many outing trips. 

Tired from the hardships of the journey, but thor- 
oughly rested from professional routine, I was ready 
and anxious to get back into the harness again. Dear 
reader, if you would fully appreciate the many things 
enjoyed from an outing of this kind, I beg of you, take 
one. 



90 Some Big Game Hunts 

THE TRAIL 
To "H. P." 

I am tired of the asphalt streets o'er which we daily go, 
Am longing for the hunting trail — the trail we used to 

know. 
I don't want any smooth roads or vehicles rubber tired, 
I don't want any horses with high titles or nobly sired. 
I want the trail a-winding amid high mountain crags. 
And a train of pack cayuses with stout and sturdy legs. 

I don't want a livei"ied driver with uniform so grand, 

I don't want a procession led by a noisy band. 

I want the old wrangler with his style so queer and 

quaint, 
I want to see the pictures that no artist e'er can paint. 
Ishwood trail. Two Ocean Pass, are good enough for me- 
Here wedded dew-drops separate, each one to find a sea. 

At night, the trailing completed, while sitting by the fire, 

The whole world seems a playhouse, what more could 
we desire? 

The hunting trips of years ago, with pleasures are re- 
viewed, 

With many plans for next year's trip, our spirits are 
imbued. 

I can see the sparks ascending through the halo of the 
night — 

On each peak a star is anchored, like a bright electric 
light. 



Wyoming 91 

Ah, listen to the music, sweet, of the wild among the 

trees! 
'Tis a song of glorious freedom, and do just as you please 
Lay aside your high collar, your tie and your cuffs, 
Come with me along the trail to the Rockie's highest 

bluffs; 
'Tis there the sun shines brightest, the air is pure and 

sweet, 
There earth and heaven in Nature's bridal chamber 

almost meet. 

When the last cayuse is loaded, ready for the final start, 
I want our trails to be the same, or not very far apart. 
May there be no smooth, slide rock or passes very high, 
When we start on the final trail to the camp beyond 

the sky. 
All fallen timber in the trail, may the good angels 

remove, 
That the journey to permanent camp may be nice and 

smooth. 
May Game Warden, Saint Peter, welcome us as his 

guests — 
When we camp with him, the game will get a rest. 



NEW BRUNSWICK 



CHAPTER VIIL 

A MOOSE AND CARIBOU HUNT IN NEW BRUNSWICK. 

SOME TRAITS OF THE MOOSE. COW MOOSE KILLED 

BY MISTAKE. SOME AMUSING EXPERIENCES. 

Early September, 1900, found H. P. Wright and me 
on our way to New Brunswick to hunt moose and car- 
ibou. We had selected a desirable location and some 
good guides. It is five days' travel from Kansas City 
to the locality where we made this hunt. As a hunting 
trip this was not very successful, yet one must be pre- 
pared to have failures on hunting trips, and he should 
be able to meet these disappointments with as few re- 
grets as possible. One is amply repaid on these trips, 
for does he not get as much benefit and pleasure from his 
travels as any tourist? 

That portion of the Province in which we hunted was 
settled two hundred years ago, and one would naturally 
expect to find it barren ot all game, however, such is 
not the case. For many years the game, once almost 
exterminated, has been increasing. The game laws 
are quite strict and well enforced. This country at 
one time was heavily timbered with pine and spruce, 
but the timber has been practically all cut. The coun- 
try is not an agricultural one, as only a few farm pro- 
ducts can be profitably raised here, hence the farmers 



New Brunswick 



95 



are abandoning their homes, moving west or to the 
cities, and giving up the country to the moose, caribou 
and other wild game. Since the heavy timber has all 
been milled, the young pines have sprung up as thick 
as it is possible for them to thrive. This makes splen- 
did moose ground. Much of the country is low, open 
heaths, full of boggy places, which furnish the best of 
feeding grounds for the moose, and the moss that 




The outgoing tide in the Bay of Fundy leaves many vessels setting 
in the mud at the wharves. 



96 Some Big Game Hunts 



covers the whole of the open country is ideal feed for 
the caribou. 

I was informed by a guide that twenty years ago 
there was not a moose for miles about his place. He 
told me of going ten miles on one occasion, just to look 
at the tracks ox a moose where it had crossed the road. 
A moose's tracks were then a curiosity. Now the 
moose aie so plentiful there that they are a menace 
during the summer to successful gardening. The cows 
and young bulls walk in plain view, leisurely, across 
the gardens of some of the farmers, and appear to hav( 
little fear of the family. The day I was in Moncton, 
a full grown bull moose passed through the center of 
the town and swam the Pettikodiac River, landing 
safely on the opposite shore. 

The tide from the Bay of Fundy runs into the Petti- 
kodiac River at Moncton, fifty to sixty feet high. It 
is a great sight to see the bore come in. It is a solid 
wall of water many feet high and two miles across, that 
I'olling up the river from the bay. Large ocean going 
steamers land at Moncton duiing the high tide, and 
they land in reality with the out-going of the tide. 
Good sized vessels may be seen with their hulls buried 
in the mud of the river bed after the tide recedes. 

We were met at the depot by the guides. They had a 
two horse wagon, and our journey began to their home. 
It was indeed a slow gait that these people traveled, only 
about two miles an hour, and it took us most of the day 
to go eighteen miles. The next morning we hired a 



New Brunswick 97 



cook and one more guide. I don't know why we needed 
a guide, at all, as they were lost most of the time we 
were in the woods. These guides and cooks were a 
most loyal set of fellows, plain and simple in their hos- 
pitality, with no idea of graft like some guides I have 
met. Their charges were very leasonable, and their 
services freely and faithfully rendered. 

To any one looking for genuine primitive methods, I 
know of no better place to find the same than in this 
locality. The roads in this section are mostly old 
logging roads, long since abandoned. They are lined 
with overhanging vines, pine trees and alder brush. 
Long years of disuse and the rains have converted these 
once busy thoroughfares, for the most part, into veri- 
table dry ditches, making them almost impassible. 
These people know nothing about pack horses and their 
value in camping outfits. Time and again we were 
compelled to rebuild bridges across small streams, and 
on one day we traveled in the bed of a good sized stream 
for ten miles. In many places the water was up to the 
wagon bed, but most of the way the drive was over a 
layer of slick cobble stones, covered with about a foot 
of swiftly flowing clear water. This stream was practic- 
ally barren of fish. Only a few small trout were seen 
on the whole trip. Part of this river journey was made 
on foot by most of our party. On our way to camp, 
we saw a small black bear ambling across an old, 
abandoned meadow. Our guns had been put snugly 
away in the bottom of the wagon, hence bruin went on 



98 



Some Big Game Hunts 




loose hunler's home in Neu' Brunswick. 



his way undisturbed, and soon disappeared in the thick 
underbrush. 

A little before sunset we ariived at our camp. A 
good camp site in this flat country is hard to find, as 
the whole country is one flat, boggy expanse with an 
occasional little knoll. The place where our cabin was 
located was on a little rise about ten feet higher than 
the surrounding country. As soon as the horses were 
unhitched, one of the guides suggested that we go down 
to the bog and look for moose. About a half mile from 
our cabin was a swamp about two miles across, in the 
center of which was a body of open water of many 
aci-es. The whole bog was covered with cranberry 
bushes and peat moss. In many places by keeping on 
the move you could travel over this springy surface, 



New Brunswick 99 



but the instant you stopped walking you could feel 
your feet slowly sinking into this mass of wet sponges. 
How deep you would sink would be hard to conjecture, 
as on several occasions I thrust sticks ten feet or more 
downward without striking the bottom. How a big, 
heavy, narrow-hoofed, long-legged animal like a moose 
can plow through these bogs is a mystery to me, yet 
they will plunge through them at a rate of speed far 
beyond one's expectations. This bog was a favorite 
feeding place for moose, as great patches of lily pads 
were to be found in the water. A moose will go a long 
way for a few of these succulent, tender shoots. He 
will wade into the water up to his belly, and plunge his 
head out of sight into the water and mud to get a 
mouthful of these pads. While in this camp I had 
ample opportunity to study the moose, his habits and 
table manners, while eating. Of this I will speak later. 
When we arrived at the edge of the bog, much to oui 
surprise and gratification we saw four big moose feeding 
on the opposite side of the bog. By the aid of our 
glasses we could see that one was a very large bull, with 
a wide spread of broad palmated antlers. This, indeed, 
was encouraging — four moose in sight within a half 
hour of our arrival in camp. We quickly planned our 
course of attack. I was to take a guide and circle the 
bog to the south, while H. P. was to go leisurely to the 
north. It was at least three miles around the bog 
from where we started to the moose. This bog is 
practically circular in its outlines, with a fringe of tim- 



100 



Some Big Game Hunts 



ber skirting its whole circumference. This timber 
belt is about two hundred yards broad. On all sides of 
the timber is an open heath with not a tree on its 
level surface. These heaths are covered with a cari- 
bou moss, several feet in thickness. This caribou moss 
reminds one of millions of large sized buggy sponges, 
piled over a bed of sticky mud, the whole saturated 
in water and densely populated with mosquitoes. We 
realized that we would have to travel very fast to reach 
the moose before it was too dark to shoot. At every 
step we would sink to our knees in the moss, making 
the trip laborious from the start. I would look around 




Interior of our cabin. {Photo by " H. P.") 



New Brunswick 101 



to see where my last track was made, but could see only 
what looked like some low form of animal taking in a 
breath to full expansion and blowing out a few air bub- 
bles, then all was as quiet and trackless as though the 
moss had not been disturbed. 

Mountain climbing, surrounded by grand scenery, 
is truly a dream of ease and beauty as compared to the 
tiresome trudging through these unpoetical peat bogs. 
Time and again I was compelled to pause to get my 
breath, let my heart have a little rest, mop my face and 
kill a few hundred voracious mosquitoes that seemed 
to recognize me as a full blooded stranger in those parts. 
When we arrived at a point about opposite the place 
where we had seen the moose feeding, the guide said 
to me, "There they go!" I looked up and about three 
hundred yards away were four moose running in single 
file, the largest one in the bunch being in the rear. The 
guide remarked, "Shoot the last one, he is the big bull." 
at the same time making ready to fire. I took good 
aim and fired at the same time the guide did, and the 
moose straightened up on his hind heels and pitched 
over backwards and remained perfectly quiet. My 
joy at having killed a moose within an hour after reach- 
ing camp may be surmised. I shouted, threw up my 
hat, laid down, rolled over, and did many seemingly 
foolish things that any hunter would have done under 
similar circumstances. We were soon alongside of the 
moose. On our way to the carcass, after the shooting, 
both laid claims to being the one who had killed the 



102 Some Big Game Hunts 

moose. I remember we both told how carefully we 
had aimed, and how sure each was of the accuracy of 
his shooting. Of course, the guide had no business 
shooting, but I told him I wanted the scalp and horns 
of that moose, this being said to him while we were 
stalking around the bog. Before we reached the moose, 
he told me of course I could have the trophy. He also 
told me how a hunter of the year before gave him 
twenty-five dollars for killing a moose for him, and I 
at that time said I thought it cheap, but that I was 
sure I had killed the one we had just been shooting at. 
If you are a big game hunter, dear reader, you know 
how fast you can talk and walk when going from the 
spot from where you shot at the animal to where it 
fell. Well, we walked and talked fast that day. 

I felt real sorry for H. P., who was within hearing 
of our guns, because I had killed a big moose so soon 
after getting to the hunting grounds, and he would 
probably have to trudge through the swamps foi- 
several weeks to get his moose. I could, in my fancy, 
see the big, broad spread of palmated antlers hanging 
in my den, and could almost hear my voice, as I re- 
lated to my friends how easily I had secured the trophy. 
These and many other exhilerating thoughts along the 
same line passed quickly through my mind, while walk- 
ing toward the dead moose. When we arrived within 
a few yards of the carcass, the guide exclaimed, "Doc, 
you have killed a cow moose!" Sure enough the ani- 
mal had no horns, although six feet tall and old enough 



New Brunswick 



103 




''Doc, you have killed a cow moose." 



to have had a record pair. The altitude of my spirits 
fell far below the zero point immediately, and I was 
equally as generous as the guide in my disposition to 
divide the honors with him. In fact, it would not 
have required much persuasion for me to have relin- 
quished all claims to any part of the good shooting. 

I am a firm believer in protecting the females of all 
game animals and I would be the last one to kill a cow 
moose, intentionally. I would get as much or more 
pleasure from killing a family Jersey cow. This was 
an unfortunate incident and appeared to be absolutely 
unavoidable. The mistake occurred in this manner: 
After we began our stalk that day, another moose 
walked out of the fringe of timber into the bog, making 
five moose in sight of H. P. and the other guide. When 



104 Some Big Game Hunts 

they started to run out of the bog, the big bull instead 
of going with the bunch, circled to the left into the 
timber where we could not see him, and this made us 
certain that the big one in the rear was the bull that we 
had seen with the others. It was late in the day and a 
slow drizzle had set in, making it hard to see a pair of 
horns three hundred yards away. 

What to do next was quickly decided upon, and 
that was to cut some small cedars and stick them about 
the carcass so that no one could see the results of the 
unfortunate, unintentional and unavoidable accident. 
The next day I visited the carcass and found it so 
swollen that the sides were protruding above the tops 
of the cedars, I cut tall cedars and stuck them into the 
soft heath and left, feeling quite sure the mistake was well 
concealed. Two days later, I visited the spot again, and 
to my horror I could see four feet sticking above the ce- 
dars, as the body of the moose had sunk in the moss and 
turned turtle. I cut the legs off at the knees and el- 
bows, took a final look at the little green oasis of stunted 
cedars in that barren heath, and bid farewell to that 
locality. 

As we took our departure the next morning I could 
see a flock of buzzaids slowly circling high in the bright 
sky over the heath near the bog. I wonder what they 
were looking at! 

While in this camp we saw many fresh bear signs, 
but no bears. The only way a bear could be captured 
here, unless by accident, would be by trapping or with 



New Brunswick 



105 



dogs. The underbrush of alders and willows is so 
thick that these jungles are almost impenetrable to 
man, yet a full-grown moose will go through this arbor- 
eal skein like a "cotton tail" through a briar patch. 

We saw many moose on this trip and could have 
killed several, but as we wanted only good trophies, 
we did not shoot at them, after the unpleasant accident 
above mentioned. Many young bulls and cows were 
seen almost daily, but we made no effort to kill them, 
yet we were living on salt bacon and were craving fresh 
meat. 




As we look our departure a flock of buzzards could be seen high in 

the air. 



CHAPTER IX. 

THE MOOSE AND SOME OF HIS TRAITS. MOOSE CALLING. 

The question as to whether a bull moose can be 
called to the hunter by the efforts of the guide to imi- 
tate a cow moose is not settled, as yet, in the minds 
of many hunters. I had ample opportunities on this 
trip to satisfy myself that during the rutting season 
the bull moose will come to the call by an experienced 
and skilled caller. On several occasions the guide 
succeeded in enticing young bulls to come within shoot- 
ing distance of our blind, and, twice, old bulls answer- 
ed to the calls and ventured to within smelling distance 
of our hiding-place, but quietly slipped away after get- 
ting our wind. 

I don't know whether they come because of the 
strange noise they hear, or whether they actually are 
fooled into the belief that it is a cow moose bellowing. 
I never heard a cow moose bellow, so I cannot tell how 
much the noise these guides make through the birch- 
bark horns resembles the call of the cow. The pound- 
ing of a stick on a dead log may act just as well to en- 
tice the love mad animals to come to you, according 
to the opinion of some hunters, but I am a firm believer 
in the cow moose signal, as a means to get the bull with- 
in shooting range. It requires no little skill and much 



New Brunswick 107 



practice to make a good caller. A thorough knowledge 
of the cow moose's love note is necessary, and too fre- 
quent, too loud or a false note may drive the bull away 
from, instead of toward the hunter. 

The calling is done through a birch-bark megaphone. 
The sound, as made by these guides, is a dreamy, pro- 
longed, wail-like, low-pitched, nasal tone, accented at 
the end of the call. This is repeated every ten or fifteen 
minutes until a response from the bull is heard, then 
fewer calls are made as he approaches. The answer 
from the bull reminds one of the croaking of a bull frog 
that has suspected approaching danger. As the bull 
gets closer to the caller, he becomes suspicious and 
will often come up to within three hundred yards of 
the hunter and then make a half circle in order to get 
on the up wind side. An old bull is very wise, and it 
requires a good caller to put him in the open quickly. 

A moose cow is the ugliest, most ungainly and idiotic 
looking beast I have ever seen in the woods. I saw 
one coming down a logging road one evening just be- 
fore sundown, and decided to see how close she would 
venture to me. I was in plain view of her as she ap- 
proached. She stopped within sixty yards of where 
I was standing, and in a dreamy, semi-conscious way 
took a good look at me. Occasionally she would work 
her long, mule-like ears back and forth and look up the 
road in an inquiring way. She stood with her fore 
feet about three feet apart, and ev?n then her shoul- 
ders were so much higher than her hips that she re- 



108 Some Big Game Hunts 

minded me of a mule-colored giraffe. I put my rifle 
vertically in front of me, and began moving it from side 
to side slowly advancing toward her. She appeared to 
be completely hypnotized, so intently and fixedly did 
she gaze at my antics as I approached her. When 
within thirty steps of her, it occurred to me that if she 
should suddenly decide to attack me, I might have to 
shoot another cow moose, and just at that time I was 
unusually impressed with the idea that a cow moose 
should not be killed. I was really afraid that she was 
going to attack me, as she raised her hair like a porcu- 
pine and stamped a front foot. I yelled at her as 
loudly as I could, at which she wheeled about and dis- 
appeared like a dissolving cloud. Her departure was 
as noiseless as if she had taken wings. 

Of all the localities in which I have hunted, this was 
the easiest in which to get lost. Every tree, clump of 
alders, heath of bog looked exactly like the other. The 
only time in my life I felt as if I were lost was at this 
camp. I had followed a logging road for about four 
miles from our camp. I was alone that day, and I de- 
cided to make a cut off on my return trip, in doing so 
I crossed my outgoing trail about a mile from the camp 
without recognizing it. This put me to the north of 
the trail going east and west. After traveling a mile 
or so north, I decided that the old trail must be south 
of me, so I turned around and started south. I was 
using a compass when I found the trail, but my tracks 
were going the wrong direction for my out-going jour- 



New Brunswick 



109 




A heaver dam. 



ney. I decided to follow them anyway, and when I 
found myself I had followed my own tracks to the point 
where I left the trail to make the cut-off when I started 
to return to camp. It was dark, or I should have dis- 
covered my mistake earlier. I recognized a large tree 
that had fallen across the road at the point where I 
turned back. It was four miles to camp and as dark 
as it could be, but by feeling for the wagon ruts, I was 
able to reach it. I was tired and hungry and glad to 
see the campfires that night. 

While at this place I visited a colony of beavers, and 
had the rare opportunity of seeing these artisans of 
the animal kingdom engaged in the work of construct- 
ing a new dam across a small stream. They go about 
theii- work in the most matter-of-fact way of uny ani- 



110 Some Big Game Hunts 

mals I have ever seen. Their dam had been cut the year 
before by some telephone pole cutters, and the beavei 
were busily engaged in replacing it before winter set in, 
that then- winter food supply might be sunk in the deep 
water above the dam, where they could get at it be- 
neath the ice from their dens in the nearby banks. 

I saw a few deer while on this trip, but as they were 
all hornless, I decided not to shoot any of them. If 
my observation was correct, there must have been a 
lot of marriageable females among the animals of that 
vicinity that were not liable during that season to meet 
a mate. I am sure that out of the number of moose 
seen on this trip theie must have been at least eighty 
per cent of them females. 

It seems almost incredible that within a few months 
these great palmated moose antlers will grow, shed the 
velvet and drop off, only to be replaced by a new set 
by the next mating season. 

These connecting links between the modern animal 
and pre-historic monsters are the largest survivors of 
their ancient relatives. Their very ungainliness is 
sufficient to make them appear picturesque. Their 
uncouthness is intensified by the very fact that no other 
animal, existing today, resembles them. They stand 
alone in their glory of palmated antlers, long, dispro- 
portionate legs and protruding, bulbous upper lip 
and hooked nose. Standing as he does when at bay, 
with a spread of antlers sixty to eighty inches, with his 
shaggy beard (bell) hanging half-way to his knees, with 



New Brunswick HI 



his long, ill-defined colored hair all turned the wrong 
way, his eyes the very emblems of anger and courage; 
the moose makes a foe, one may well avoid, unless pre- 
pared to destroy him with one of the moder-n high-power 
repeating rifles. 

In spite of his ugly ai)pearance, we cannot help ad- 
miring him for his courage and the valor which he dis- 
plays in protecting the members of his family from the 
attacks of hungry wolves and other destroyers of his 
family circle. 

In Europe he was known by the name of elk, the 
name we use in America for the round-horned wapitti. 
The cow is an ugly, dumb looking, expressionless crea- 
ture, lacking all of the traits of stateliness so marked 
in the bull. She is a mother in every sense of the word, 
sacrificing all else for the love and piotection of her 
young. Although stupid looking, it is she who on most 
occasions gives the alarm to her lordly spouse when 
man or other dangers threaten his safety. Their fond- 
ness for water is so well known that it is hardly worth 
the space to mention it. Their characteristics in 
swampy gr-ound are not so thoroughly understood. 
They will wade into soft, boggy places up to their 
bellies while in search of lily pads and other succulent 
water plants, and the ease with which they plow their 
way through the mud would astonish anyone who had 
not witnessed them while making their escape from 
the mar-shes when they heai- or smell the approach of 
suspected enemies. You can hear the thuds of their 



112 Soyne Big Game Hunts 

long legs, as they are pulled out of the mud, for two or 
three miles, on a cold, frosty, still morning. The moose 
is reckless in his disregard of dead and down timber 
and thickly wooded places, tearing thiough them with 
the velocity and power of a cyclone, crashing and break- 
ing limbs and logs in an incredible manner. 

The bull is a fickle lord, as he is wont to bestow his 
affections upon many sylvan dames. However, he is 
not to be called away from his rightful spouse while 
she pours into his ears her wooing words of admiration 
and her threats of desertion, if he should prove false. 
If you do not believe this statement, I ask you to use 
all your skill as a moose caller in trying to coax him 
away from his family circle. He msy answer your call 
with his w-a-u-a-h, w-a-u-a-h, and even approach you, 
but just let him come close enough foi you to hear the 
following cow give him her opinion on the call, or her 
ideas on a moose deserting his family, and I assure you 
he will soon become quiet and repentant and skulk 
away without giving you a close shot at his henpecked 
sides. 

We saw many caribou signs while on this trip, but 
did not secure a specimen. These untamed reindeer 
are a peculiar animal in many ways. In some parts of 
British America and Alaska herds of many thousand 
may be found, feeding among the bogs and peat beds. 



BRITISH COLUMBIA 



CHAPTER X. 

BRITISH COLUMBIA HUNT AFTER MOUNTAIN SHEEP, 
GOATS AND BEAR. 

In company with Frank Hodges, of Olathe, Kansas, 
I made a trip to British Columbia, in 1907. We left 
the Canadian Pacific at Ashcroft, B. C, taking one of 
the really delightful stages of the company furnishing 
transportation to Barkersville, two hundred and eighty 
miles north. This stage trip is made in four days. 

Having engaged passage the night before, we were 
told to be ready to start by three o'clock, A. M. The 
landlord of the Hotel Ashcroft awakened us promptly. 
We had arranged all our baggage the night before, to 
prevent delay. We were ready to start on time, and 
sallied forth to be picked up by a British Columbian 
fresh from the Arctic breeze. This little unpleasant- 
ness did not worry us, but when we had to stand on the 
street for four hours, waiting for the driver to hitch 
up, our patience was taxed a little bit, I must admit. 

A ride in one of the old-time coaches with six horses 
on a dead run around some of the winding places in 
the road a thousand feet above some rushing stream, 
was, on many occasions, disposed to make one a little 
sea-sick, if not a trifle nervous. 

Our first day's travel from Ashcroft to Lillooet, our 



116 



Some Big Game Hunts 



outfitting point, was made in eight hours, the distance 
being seventy miles. This trip was one of the most 
picturesque stage journeys I have ever made. The 
road is a government highway and is kept in fine repair. 
For many miles the roaring and dangerous Frazier 
River is followed by this highway in its windings in 
and out of deep gorges. This stream flows more water 
than the Missouri, yet is not navigable, owing to the 
rapids and falls. Its water is the color of milked coffee, 
owing to the volcanic ash and glacial flour that is con- 
stantly sliding from its precipitous banks. 

Lillooet, our outfitting point, is a little village of much 
notoriety, a few white people and many Chinamen. 
It was here that placer mining was discovered as early 
as 1849, and at one time Lillooet had a population of 




We outfitted in Lillooet. 



British Columbia 117 

five thousand souls. I found here the most sociable 
and hospitable people I have ever met on any of my 
hunting trips. 

I had engaged W. G. C. Manson as our guide. "Bill," 
as he is called, is one of the most noted guides today 
living in British Columbia. A few words about this 
great hunter will not be amiss at this time. He is a 
fourth breed Cree Indian. His father was of Scotch 
descent and a Hudson Bay Company factor. He was 
born in the Peace River country near the Arctic Circle. 
He has been a hunter and trapper all his life, and what 
he does not know of the habits of the game in that 
country would not make a large book. Among the 
notables who have hunted with him as their guide may 
be mentioned: Admiral Seymour, Lord Powell Clay- 
ton and Senator Penrose. 

While at Lillooet we had some very fine trout and 
salmon fishing. Seaton Lake is three miles away. 
From this lake Seaton River has its source. This 
stream is a hundred feet in width and is only three miles 
in length to its entrance in the Frazier. It is a clear 
water stream and is noted for the salmon that annually 
go up it to Seaton Lake to spawn. The Canadian 
government has a fish hatchery at the lake exit of the 
river. A double row of fingered traps, extending across 
the stream permits the fish to go upward at the lower 
trap and downward at the upper trap. This collects 
the fish from both sources, but mostly, of course, from 
below, in this space between the traps, which are one- 



118 



Some Big Game Hunts 




The Barkerville limited. 



half mile apart. It is indeed a great sight to stand on 
the broad runway in mid-stream and watch the sal- 
mon in their frantic efforts to get above the upper trap. 
The egg-ladened females are caught and "milked" and 
the eggs fertilized in the hatching troughs at the hat- 
chery. The salmon are then thrown back into the 
streams to be washed away. Like all the salmon going 
up these streams, none return to the ocean alive. The 
salmon's life story, although very interesting, is too 
long to be recited here. 

We were told that these fish would not take the fly, 
but they did, as I can verify by the fish warden, if 
necessary. We caught three fine specimens within an 
hour. Forty-five minutes of that hour were occupied 
by me in landing one fish. We gave the fish to a Si- 



British Columbia 119 

wash family, camping near the lake. The wild, mad 
rushes of one of the salmon I hooked, I have never seen 
excelled by any fish save the muskalonge of the North- 
ern Minnesota lakes. The trout would not take the 
fly in this big river trap as the salmon eggs were too 
plentiful, but a mile below, they were ravenously hun- 
gry. They were of the Dolly Varden species with 
pointed heads and light colored spots. 

Cut-throat trout — Salmon Clarkii — are black spotted 
trout. Back and sides halfway down golden yellow, 
slightly oblong black spots from mouth to tip of tail. 
Peculiar blood-red margin on the edge of the gills gives 
this fish the name of cut-throat. 

Manson had engaged two Lillooet Indians as camp 
helpers. The Indians of this province, like all of those 
in the northwestern country, are called Siwashes, re- 
gardless of the special tribal name. This particular 
Siwash bunch is known as Lillooets. The condition 
of these poor, superstitious, ignorant and lazy natives 
illustrates the same indomitable disposition of the white 
race to obliterate all color lines by extermination, when 
possible. Black approaches the indelible most closely, 
and even this color today has many yellow streaks. 
These Indians are a shiftless set, but show much more 
thrift than our western plains Indians. They live by 
hunting and fishing. The banks of the Frazier River 
during the salmon run in August and September are 
lined with these aborigines, with their crude dip nets, 
patiently sitting on some projecting rock, hour after 



120 



Some Big Game Hunts 



hour, waiting for the madly rushing salmon on their 
way to the spawning beds in the little streams, hun- 
dreds of miles from the ocean. The fish, when caught, 
are halved and hung up to dry. I have visited a num- 
ber of these native fishermen and have seen them in 
all their filth and squalor. It is indeed pathetic, but 
what are we going to do about it? The survival of 
the fittest (fightest) will bring the answer in the near 
future. 

We had three of these natives with us on this hunt- 
ing trip, as horse tenders and cook. I did not think 
it possible for civilized white men within a few weeks 
to retrograde to such an extent as to approach closely 
to aboriginal practices. Our cook thought nothing of 
using a horse blanket for a table cloth or a saddle stir- 




A British Columbia through freight. 



British Columbia 121 



rup to pound a tough venison steak with, and strange 
as it may seem, we were Indian enough to eat that 
steak with a rehsh from a tin plate on this same horse 
blanket. . Mountain climbing, sunshine and fresh air 
beget an appetite that leads to an acute attack of table 
refinement opacity. 

The language (?) of these Indians reminds one of a 
hound-dog eating hot mush. They understand it all. 
Some of the words are a mixture of French and Siwash 
and can be interpreted and spoken by a white man, 
but most of it can be used only by being born with the 
"slush" accent in the mouth. Some of their utter- 
ances make one feel uneasy, lest he strangle. 

The names of our Indians were, "Creekwah" and 
"Bonaparte." "Creek" was low, heavy-set, with wide 
mouth, broad face, high cheek bones, and an open faced 
grin. He had an enormous appetite and unlimited 
capacity. "Bony" was slim, agile, a hard hunter, but 
a poor shot. He was a good horse wrangler and par- 
tial to good things to eat, with no hesitancy in helping 
himself to the very best. 

The day we left Lillooet, "Billy" employed an extra 
Indian, a Chilcootin, to guide us to a new and good 
sheep country, which he said was near his home. Alex- 
ander was his name. I presume that he is — like a his- 
torical Alec — weeping at this moment, unless he has 
discovered a new bunch of hunters to feed him and ac- 
company him on his way home, paying him well for 
the privilege. He was of a tribe living a hundred and 




'UUlic" Manson, Ihe noted guide. 



British Columbia 



123 



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A sun-set scene on the Frazier River. 



fifty miles north of Lillooet. I protested against em- 
ploying this Indian, as I did not like his looks. He 
looked the part of a villian. I refused to let him go in- 
to the woods while we were hunting, as he took a great 
fancy to my gun, and would, on every chance, pick 
it up and admire it by gestures. He could not speak 
English. It will be seen later how well grounded were 
my suspicions of this traitor to his new-made friends. 
We were going on a long and difficult trip to navigate 
trail, necessitating good, stout horses with newly put 
on' sharp shoes. A complete horse-shoeing outfit and 
extra shoes were taken along with us. The trails along 
the Frazier and Bridge rivers are especially hard on 
horses' shoes, as there are so many slide rock mountain 
sides to go along. The intense cold of the long win- 



124 



Some Big Game Hunts 



ters and the extreme heat of the mid-day summer sun 
keep up a constant flaking of the friable exposed rocks. 
These cUps pile up on the mountain slopes many feet 
deep and hundreds of yards down the mountain. These 
rock slides are the dread of all hunters, as a horse 
stumbling may start a rock avalanche of no small pro- 
portions. I have seen tons of these rocks rush down 
the mountain side carrying everything movable before 
them. 

These Indians have no idea of promptness in keeping 
an appointment. A two days' delay is of no conse- 
quence to them, especially if, while waiting, they are 
drawing their salary. 

After three days spent in getting together the Ind- 
ians and the other duffle, we started on our seven days' 
journey to the newly discovered (?) Alexanderiayi sheep 




It is indeed pathetic, but what are we going ,to do about it''. 



British Columbia 



125 



country. This jaunt reminded me of the fooUsh equine 
known as "Thompson's colt," that swam a river of 
clear water to get a drink from a mud hole on the other 
shore. Good sheep hunting, I later learned, could be 
had within a day's travel of Lillooet. Our expenses 
for "Bill," sixteen head of horses and his tamed war- 




'Alex" trailed us toward his sheep pasture. 



126 Some Big Game Hunts 

riors was only thirty-two dollars per day. Why should 
we care if we did go out of our way fifteen or twenty 
days? Were we not getting value received? Did we 
not have the pleasure of seeing the Indians eat? This 
was an almost continuous performance. The show 
was a good one to a person who enjoys seeing the ani- 
mals fed at a circus. Horse hunting always forms an 
important part of the pack train hunters' duty, and 
this trip was not an exception, as we had sixteen head 
of pack and saddle animals. A horse wrangler's duties 
are many and arduous. We had a remarkable good 
bunch of horses, and as a rule, they were very home- 
like in their attachments for each new camp, but occas- 
ionly we would have to lay up a half day while finding 
and driving in the pack. We kept a bell on one old- 
timer. This horse knew his place in the procession 
and would fight vigorously any horse that undertook 
to usurp his rights. The tall grass surrounding our 
camping sites was always saturated with dew in the 
early morning, or if there was frost it soon melted, mak- 
ing the early morning horse or other hunting on foot 
equivalent to wading in an ice cold stream, knee deep. 



CHAPTER XI. 

INDIANS OF BRITISH COLUMBIA. TRAILS IN THE CAS- 
CADES. KILLED LYNX. PORCUPINES. MOUN- 
TAIN SHEEP AND HIS HABITS. 

Poor B, C. Lo has his troubles served up to him 
about the same in B. C. as in the U. S, His game and 
fish have gone the usual route, and he is doomed to 
follow them. I sincerely trust that his dreams of the 
happy hunting grounds may come true. If they should 
I wager that some white man will be there awaiting 
their arrival. The horses were the best lot I ever saw 
on the trail. Bill was kind to them and they were a 
docile, obedient bunch of pack animals. 

As we left Lillooet we passed many old placer mines, 
most of which had long since been washed out. Occas- 
ionly we would see some lone Chinaman with his pan, 
diligently washing the sand on the banks of the Frazier. 
Here and there, perched on projecting rocks on the 
river bank, a solitary Indian was seen sitting as quietly 
as a fish hawk, net in hand, patiently waiting and 
watching for the few straggling sock-eye salmon that 
had escaped the gauntlet of the white man's modern 
salmon traps down the stream. These Indians have 
made some efforts at farming and stock raising. Theii- 
religion is Roman Catholic. 



128 



Some Big Game Hunts 




A Lynx. He was an extra large varmint. 



Four miles from Lillooet we crossed Bridge River 
on a suspension bridge made by these Indians. One 
feels secure after he reaches the opposite bank. The 
Bridge River is a turbulent, opaque stream, flowing in 
many places through volcanic fissures and gravel beds. 
There is a constant, but slow crumbling of the enor- 
mous glacial deposits that keeps the waters of this 
stream anything but clear. In many places we trav- 



British Columbia 129 

eled for miles along its almost precipitous banks. Some 
ten miles from town we saw a good sized lynx quietly 
walking along the mountain side. He was not in the 
least disturbed by our presence. Even after we had 
fired two missing shots at him he did not run. Some 
loose horses, grazing near had probably brought about 
this feeling of false security. The third shot killed him. 
His pelt was not worth saving. He was an extra large 
varmint. 

During the day we traveled along a government 
trail following the river. Late in the afternoon, we 
came to a little creek, which we followed to our first 
camp, making about thirty miles for the first day. 
While putting up the tents, Frank secured a number 
of fine trout for our supper and breakfast. Early the 
next morning, I struck out on foot in the direction we 
were to travel, hoping that I might find a bear, as there 
were plenty of berries along the route. I saw where 
a mother bear and two cubs had been feeding during 
the night, but did not see the bears during that day. 
We killed a number of "fool hens," or Franklin grouse, 
as we were traveling through the heavy lower timbered 
slopes. As we were crossing a high divide — five thous- 
and, eight hundred feet — we flushed two sooty grouse 
— blue grouse, or pine hens. One of the horses tram- 
pled on one of the young, killing it. The male lighted 
on a tall, dead pine tree, but flew again when we got 
to within a hundred yards of him. 

We ate dinner that day by the side of a beaver dam. 



130 



Some Big Game Hunts 



Fresh signs indicated that the dam was inhabited. 
We struck camp that night in a cold, drizzling rain, but 
it was not too rainy for Frank to get a nice string of 
trout. Just as we were eating supper, a full grown 
lynx walked up to within fifty yards of our camp, calm- 
ly viewed us with his cat-like eyes, and slowly walked 
away with his pointed ears laid back against the ruf- 
fled fur of his neck, as good as to say, "Those fellows 
don't amount to much, anyway." 

We traveled all the next day in the rain and camped 
near Dromedary Peak, a noted location for mountain 
goats. We spied the mountains, but failed to get a 
glimpse of Oreamnos. 

Our next camp was on a small stream at Horse Skull 
camp, so named because a fiactious guide two years 




Horse skull cuDip. 



British Columbia 131 

before had killed one of his pack animals by striking 
him on the head with a club. The skull of the poor, 
abused animal, bleached to a ghastly white, with a 
jagged stellate fracture was hanging on a dead limb 
near our camp. I wrote a few lines on the bleached 
frontal bone. I trust that this guide may see the same, 
some day. It would do him good, I hope. 

It was while at this camp that I ate my first piece of 
porcupine, as well as broke the game laws of British 
Columbia by killing a mountain sheep ten days before 
the open season on sheep. The fine has been paid, the 
docket cleared and all concerned are satisfied. How- 
ever, I want to submit my case to you, my dear reader, 
and ask you, candidly, what would you have done had 
you been in my place with those five big rams strung 
out before you? 

We were traveling slowly down a long, narrow ra- 
vine on our fourth day out from Lillooet when I saw 
something moving lazily in a little clump of willows. 
I rode into this bunch of underbrush to see if I could 
find the moving object. I soon discovered that it was 
a large porcupine. He was not in the least perturbed 
by the close relationship that had so suddenly sprung 
up between us, although we were perfect strangers, as 
we had never met before. These turtles of the animal 
kingdom have just about as much speed, wisdom and 
appreciation of the unusual and dangerous situations 
as the old land terrapin of the southern states. I got 
off my horse and stood within two feet of his needle 



132 Some Big Game Hunts 



covered, ugly back. He turned his repulsive face 
toward me and with his rat-like eyes surveyed me from 
head to foot and said something to me about me in por- 
cupine, which I did not understand. He probably 
thought what a ghastly fright I was without a street 
sweeper on my back. Having expressed his opinion 
about me he began to eat grass loots and willow sprouts, 
occasionally slapping his tail against the ground, with 
a grunting emphasis. He kept his tail toward me most 
of the time, as that was best fortified against any at- 
tack from my source. After defying me to attack him, 
he leisurely waddled away a few feet to a spruce tree 
which he climbed ten feet, when the idea seemed to 
strike him that there was something about me that he 
had not examined closely enough. He backed down 
the tree and walked to within three feet of where I was 
standing, talking to himself in erethizon epixanthus in 
a nasal, high toned manner most of the time. After 
my trying to converse with him in "Missouri," he 
seemed suddenly to become disgusted or frightened, 
and I never saw a "porky" stir up so much dust and 
tumble down a mountain side so quickly as he did. 
The last I saw of him, he was going toward the head 
waters of the McKenzie River. 

The Indians are very fond of "porky" — they are 
fond of anything to eat, I can prove it if necessary. 
One day Creekwah, our cook, said, "Want 'porky' or 
ground hog today to eat?" Our guide killed a big, fat 
porcupine during the day. The Indians skinned him 



British Columbia 



133 



and we had "porky" stew for dinner. I took a small 
piece and without chewing it, swallowed it, like a cap- 
sule full of quinine. My hunting partner said that 
would not count as eating "porky," but that I must 
take a good-sized bite and chew it. I tackled it. Here 
is where I made a mistake. I began, first, to chew it 
easily; then I put on the loud pedal and advanced the 
spark, threw in the clutch and hit the rubber on the 
high speed. The more I chewed, the tougher the piece 
got and the tighter it fitted my mouth. Finally it pried 
my jaws open, pressed down my tongue and filled my 
mouth so full that it required three Indians quite a 
while to remove the rubber ball from between my teeth. 
No more "porky" for me! 




The beautiful Ovis dalli of Kenai Peninsula. (Photographed by 
Dr. Bauchman, of Seward, Alaska.) 



134 Some Big Game Hunts 

In addition to the Ovis Montana, Alaska harbors 
within its confines two additional specimens of the 
mountain sheep: One, the Ovis Stonei, or black 
mountain sheep, found in the Costal range of Southern 
Alaska, and the Ovis dalli, or white big horn of the 
Kenai peninsula. A photo of a beautiful specimen of 
the latter, killed by my friend, Dr. Boughman, of Se- 
ward, is here shown. 

Ovis Montana, mountain sheep or big horn, is to 
the animal world what the eagle is to the bird kingdom. 
He is the very em.blem of caution, termerity and reck- 
lessness embodied in one. He never turns a corner or 
makes a move, but that he is on the alert. He never 
crosses a divide that he does not show his caution and 
termerity. His dare-devil leaps from crag to shelving 
rock, and his flight along the edges of precipices stamp 
him as the very embodiment of recklessness. His speed 
and the way in which he gets over the mountains en- 
title him to be named the areoplane of the mountains, 
as compared to the camel or ships of the desert. Un- 
like the deer, elk, moose and many other hunted ani- 
mals, he does not depend on the tangled underbrush 
and thickest foliage to hide him, but stands out in bold 
relief against the sky line on the highest peak and seem- 
ingly invites you to come and get him if you can. He 
depends on his good eye-sight, vigilance and his rapid, 
long and perilous jumps to carry him to safety. I have 
measured in the snow in British Columbia on amount- 



British Columbia 135 

ain side where there was not much slope, a jump of 
over twenty-four feet. 

I have often wondered why the Rocky mountain 
sheep selects as his home the almost desolate and bar- 
ren mountain peaks, when, within a few thousand feet 
the richest pasturage may be found. Occasionally, he 
may, in passing from one peak to another, condescend 
to go through a forest or trample underfoot the suc- 
culent grasses of the lower altitude, but he will not 
tarry long on his journey unless in rare instances, over- 
taken by a storm, or if constantly hunted on the moun- 
tain tops, he may seek refuge in the foothills. How- 
ever, this is very rare and only temporary. As a game 
animal I consider him the king. He is ever alert, swift 
of foot, quick to sight danger, and keen of sense of smell, 
timid to an extreme, of man, fearless in his daring leaps 
and rapid flight in getting away from the hunter. Add 
to this his natural haunts in almost inaccessible, high 
altitudes with rarified atmosphere, and the successful 
hunting of mountain sheep becomes a task the like of 
which is not to be found in hunting any other game. 
The hunter who secures a trophy of this, the king of 
big game, deserves all the honors that accrue to him 
who strives and conquers. It must be understood that 
the animals remain on the highest mountain peaks in 
a given range during rigid winters of the North, They 
will descend to lower ranges, but will select the highest 
ridges of that particular range. The wind usually 
blows the snow off the crest of these ridges, leaving the 



136 



Soyne Big Game Hunts 



ground bare so they can find a scant sustenance during 
the winter. During the early autumn months, several 
rams are frequently seen together, the ewes and lambs 
remaining on some distant mountain. As the rutting 
season approaches, the rams cease to roam together 
in peace and take on ugly moods, with a tendency to 
carry "chips on their shoulders," so to speak. These 
chips are usually butted off many times during the 




The Ovis Montana. This is a record head in many 
of ila measurements 



British Columbia 137 

actual rutting season. On a cold, frosty morning, I 
have heard the terrific impact of the horns of two fight- 
ing rams three miles away. The other rams, ewes and 
lambs will stand by quietly, looking on while the fight 
is in progi'ess. Occasionally, a particularly athletic 
ram with an overflow of energy and a tough head will 
give vent to his pent up feelings and force by butting 
the bark from some stunted cedar or pine tree on the 
mountain side. You may see his battering ram signs 
on almost any mountain where sheep have made their 
home for a number of years. Do not mistake the band- 
like porcupine gnawing on trees for the bark-brushing 
butting of the sheep. One must not think that the 
sheep are only on the lookout after having discovered 
the approach of danger. A camp fire the night before, 
or a little target practice at a camp miles away from the 
mountain, known to be "good sheep country" may put 
these timid animals in a state of panic that makes the 
approach to them within rifle shot almost impossible. 
Do not let the sheep become the hunters by showing 
your presence to them, first. If you do, you won't get 
one of those sheep. A sheep, while grazing, can see 
below him, hence, in hunting sheep it is best to approach 
him from above, when possible. During the early 
mornings they will be found grazing or lying down on 
the sunny slopes of the mountains. Do not approach 
from the east in the early morning. The thundering 
noise of the avalanche may not disturb a band of sheep 
as quickly as the rolling of a small stone or the cracking 



138 



Some Big Game Hunts 



of a dead twig under the hunter's foot. Quiet treading 
is essential in all hunting. This is especially true in 
hunting big horns. I prefer thick rubber soled tennis 
shoes. If your feet are tender, put in a good, thick 
leather inner sole. You can travel almost noiselessly 
with this foot-gear, if you will avoid starting detached 
pieces of rock. 




CHAPTER XII. 

KILLING MOUNTAIN SHEEP IN CLOSED SEASON, AND 
WHAT IT COST ME. 

I had been informed by the guides before leaving my 
home that the open season on mountain sheep had been 
changed from September 1st. to August 15th. 1 had 
traveled three thousand miles to reach the sheep coun- 
try in which I expected to hunt. On my arrival I was 
informed that the open season had not been changed, 
as the governor had refused to sign the new bill. My 
time was limited. The guide and his outfit — three 
Indians and sixteen horses — were engaged for thirty 
days at thirty dollars per day, for myself and hunting 
partner. It would take seven days of hard trailing to 
reach the country where we were going to hunt. It 
was then August 15th. We decided to start on the 
trip and get well located by September 1st. We trav- 
eled four days and camped in a beautiful, little grass 
covered valley and decided to rest one day and let the 
horses graze. The next morning the guide, my hunt- 
ing partner, one of the Indians and I concluded to go 
on a little tour of inspection upon Big Red mountain, 
so called because of the bright red color of its crest. 
This mountain is about ten thousand feet above sea 
level and is made up of a flinty red stone that flakes 



140 



Some Big Game Hunts 




The Author and his ''Game Warden sheep." 



and tumbles down its side constantly, making the very 
worst kind of slide rock to travel over, both for man and 
beast. This is especially true on the south side of the 
mountain, where the sun produces such marked changes 
in the temperature of the rocks. On the north side 
thei-e is a large area of snow and a few small glaciers in 



British Columbia 141 



some of the ravines near the shoulder of the moun- 
tain. At the foot of these snow and ice masses, there 
is an abundance of rich grass, but the sheep do not 
graze much there, as you find them higher up on the 
mountain. I have often wondered why they do not 
graze in these luxuriant, gi'assy spots, instead of in the 
barren rocky summits. As I have learned more of 
these animals, it is easily understood. The reason is 
purely one of self-preservation. 

It was an ideal day. The sun shone down upon us 
with sufficient heat to counteract the cold of the wind's 
blast as it swept over the glacier and snow covered 
mountain sides. The climbing up the sides of this 
mountain presented the usual difficulties met with in 
reaching high altitudes. You look above you and 
think, on the next bench I will be at the top, but when 
you reach that spot, perchance you will discover a 
broad, flat valley several hundred yards or more in 
width. This "benching" of a mountain "has been a 
source of disappointment to many a hunter. I have 
never been quite able to understand where the moun- 
tain climber gets his compensation for his labors. Of 
course, he is well paid, but the salary of one man does 
not meet the demands of another. 

On approaching the shoulder of the mountain, we 
separated to circumvent the summit, on a purely in- 
spection tiip. We had been separated for two or three 
hours, and I had seen nothing in the way of game signs 
and had started to return toward the camp about five 



142 Some Big Game Hunts 

miles away. I paused for a moment and glanced 
toward the sky line to the north of me about three 
miles. I was using my field glasses. All at once I saw, 
like a retreating cloud bringing to view the moon at the 
horizon, five slowly resolving moving objects that I 
soon recognized as rams' heads. I have never beheld 
a grander sight. I could make out that they were 
frightened and had been running quite a distance, as 
they frequently paused and turned about to look in the 
direction from whence they came. I was standing in 
mushy snow up to my ankles, but what did I care for 
cold or wet, while watching this band of noble rams! 
I quickly lay down on my back in the snow, as they 
were coming in my direction. They were led by a big 
ram with a massive pair of horns. The sight was one 
of enchanting beauty, as I watched them. They strung 
out on the face of the mountain, all the time coming 
nearer and nearer to me. My joy at the prospect of 
bagging one of those trophies was unbounded, and I 
could hardly contain myself, so impatient was I while 
watching them. They are, I thought, now about six 
hundred yards away and coming directly toward me 
with the wind in my favor. Will they discover me, or 
will they turn to the right through the little sag on the 
spine of the mountain? While I was thus meditating, 
they quickly turned away from me and disappeared 
through the gap. I jumped to my feet, one-half of me 
as wet as a ship's hull just put in the dry docks, and 
ran with all my might — not very fast at that altitude 



British Columbia 143 

— in the direction they had disappeared. I had not 
gone over two hundred yards before I saw them com- 
ing right toward me in full flight (flight nearly de- 
scribes their ability to get over the ground). They had 
evidently come in sight of some one of our party over 
the crest of the ridge. When within three hundred 
yards of me, I began firing at the leader. My second 
shot striking him while in the air — truly a wing shot — 
he turned a summersault and never moved after strik- 
ing the snow. I fired three more shots, scoring on the 
horns of another, stunning him so badly that he lay in 
the snow for fully thirty seconds, but regained his feet 
and made his escape. I measured some jumps made 
by these sheep in the snow and found the distance to 
be twenty-four feet. The actual distance of the sheep 
from me when I shot measured over three hundred 
yards. My delight at killing this ram was so great and 
my enthusiasm was so intense that I did not realize — 
and I presume would not have cared at that time — 
that I had violated the provisions of the game law of 
British Columbia, protecting Ovis Montana. I was 
later very forcibly reminded of this fact, when one of 
the Indians deserted camp and told the game warden 
that I had killed the sheep on August 20th. I was 
fined fifty dollars and costs. 

Now, my dear hunters and true sportsmen, I believe 
in game protection by stringent laws, and I believe in 
the prosecution of all violations of the same, but place 
yourself in my position — and consider other facts men- 



144 Some Big Game Hunts 

tioned — at the time I killed this ram, and I will ask 
you on the "Q. T." what would you have done? What? 
Of course you would. The officials of British Columbia 
are the finest set of courteous gentlemen I have ever 
met in an official or unofficial way. 

Bill had heard the shooting and came running over 
the top of the mountain just in time to see me doing an 
Indian stomy dance about the dead ram. I took actual 
measurements of the sheep. He measured forty inches 
in height, fifty-eight inches from nose to tail, forty-four 
inches about chest, forty at waist line. His weight 
was about two hundred and thirty pounds. Base of 
horns measured fifteen inches, length of horns, thirty- 
three inches, between horns, at tip, twenty inches, from 
nose to horns ten inches, between eyes six and one-half 
inches, about neck twenty-seven inches. 

After taking off the skin and dressing the meat, we 
loaded ourselves with the carcass and started down the 
mountain. We had not gone far before we ran on to 
Frank and "Boney," on their way to the camp. We 
soon had the meat transferred to the horses and joined 
the procession camp ward. 

To say that I was elated over my kill that day only 
faintly expresses my joy. Never in my life since I 
killed my first little buck, away back in Kentucky 
when I was a mere boy, have I felt so proud of a hunt- 
ing feat as I did on that occasion. If my i-eader friend, 
is a big game hunter, he will fully agree with me when 



British Columbia 



145 



I say that he who kills one of these sky pilots brings 
down the gamest of the big game. 

As we returned to camp, a feeling of guilt slowly 
crept over me and I assure you that it dampened my 
ardor and enthusiasm very much, as that was my first 




''Creekwuh," our cook, was fund of "Porky. 



146 Some Big Game Hunts 

and only wilful trespass of a game law. I had on 
another occasion killed by mistake a cow moose, think- 
'ing it a bull, in violation of the game law, for which I 
was very sorry, as one gets no more sport from killing 
a cow moose than from shooting the family cow. 

As we came nearer and nearer the camp, a feeling of 
secrecy overcame me so much that I suggested hiding 
the evidence of my guilt, although a hundred and fifty 
miles from a game warden. I was afraid of Alec, the 
Chilcotin. How well my suspicions were founded may 
be seen, when two days later he deserted our camp and 
rode back to inform the game warden of my violation 
of the act protecting sheep to September 1st. 

In my early life I had purloined a few watermelons, 
or perchance filled my shirtbosom and on one occasion 
the bottom tied up legs, of my knee breeches, with a 
neighbor's apples. All that was done with little thought 
of the consequences. But this was so different. After 
seeing that there were no visitors in camp, who would 
want the sheep's and my mutton, I ordered the meat 
brought in. I have never tasted meat so palatable and 
sweet that later became so bitter. The Indians sat 
up the most of the night, eating mutton. Creekwah 
said, "Doc make skookem (strong) medicine. Kill 
zolops (sheep). Heap good shooter." 

We broke camp the next morning, still following 
the traitor toward his visionary sheep pasture. This 
was a hard day's travel through fallen timber, part of 
the time through heavy jack pines that were ladened 



British Columbia 147 

with rain that soon saturated our clothing. We saw 
several deer during the day. 

We struck camp near a little lake at the crest of the 
Pacific and Bridge river watershed. While making 
camp, Frank with his flies and rod, caught a bucket 
full of trout. This was the most disagreeable camp of 
the whole trip, in as far as concerned our bodily com- 
fort. It was still raining when we moved the next 
morning. The horses were fractious from fighting 
mosquitoes, making the putting on of packs more than 
usually tiresome. The guide was sore about nothing 
in particular and everything in general. The Indians 
were, if possible, more stupid than usual, and there 
were two white hunters who had smiles that refused to 
come on. 



»^. 




Bl/^^ ^ ^ ^ A'f% 



CHAPTER XIII. 

SOME GOOD TROUT FISHING. GAME WARDEN VISITS 

OUR CAMP. SECURED THE SHEEP HEAD AND 

SCALP. INDIAN DESERTS US. RETRACING 

OUR STEPS. FIND OF THE GAME WARDEN'S 

DEER, KILLED OUT OF SEASON. 

SOME REMINISCENCES. 

During the day we made about thirty miles. In the 
afternoon the clouds cleared away and such a scene as 
was presented to us! In every direction, to the front, 
to the right and to the left of us was a vast range of 
black, sharp, spire-like peaks, too steep to hold the 
snow, projecting skyward through the mansard snow 
covered roofs of the mountains. While on this high 
pass, I could look down upon hundreds of islands of 
cloud shadows in a vast ocean of sunshine. 

During the day, on a particularly high pass that 
commanded a range of country for a hundred miles to 
the north and west, we asked Alec to show us his sheep 
Eldorado. We were surprised to learn from him that 
he was lost and that he could not locate within the 
hundred miles in view any familiar mountains. It was 
then that I told Billy that the Indian was leading us on 
a "wild goose chase," instead of a sheep hunt. He was 
disposed to agree with me. During the day, the Chil- 



British Columbia 



149 




"Camp Limit." 



cotin was inclined to wander away from the trail, but 
could not get any good excuse to get out of sight. 

We camped that night on a beautiful little knoll over- 
looking the valley many miles, and commanding some 
fine sheep country. There were a good many bear 
signs here, also. This camp I later named "The Limit," 
both because it was our farthest camp and because of 
anothei little incident that had its focus at this point. 

The first night after landing at this camp, Alexander, 



150 Some Big Game Hunts 

during Hanson's absence, saddled his pony and said, 
"Alec go away." We protested, but to no avail. As 
soon as our guide returned, I told him that the Indian 
had left in an ugly mood and that I feared he was going 
to see the game warden. That was the last time I saw 
the Indian. 

We spied the mountain near our camp for a few days, 
seeing only a few ewes. One evening when I returned, 
Creekwah said, "Game warden been here, took sheep 
head. Chilcotin told him you kill ram, he come here, 
go way. Come in morning see you." This was de- 
lightful (?) news to a man who had violated the game 
laws of another than his own country. 

The game warden came that night. I told him to 
take good care of my sheep scalp and that I hoped he 
would not get mine as well as the sheep's. He took 
the scalp away with him and kept it in good shape until 
I went before the magistrate in Lillooet, admitted my 
guilt and the guide paid my fine, thereby showing his 
manhood, as he was the cause of my being on the 
hunting grounds too soon. This was an honest mis- 
take on his part, however. 

On trips of this kind every hunter is liable to have an 
attack of "grouch," some more than others. No ill 
feeling toward anyone in particular, but toward the 
world in general. Some have the faculty of walking 
it off, others must talk it off. The latter plan is the 
quickest way to get it out of the system, and usually 
results in a cure. The day after the game wai'den took 



British Columbia 151 

my fine mountain sheep scalp and horns away with 
him, I was decidedly on the moody side. I could see 
only a bread and water diet handed me by a stern and 
heartless jail keeper, through the narrow space between 
the bars. All unnecessary brooding! While in this 
mood I wrote: "The poetry and picturesque features 
of a trip of this kind fade away in the face of a stern 
reality of failure. The aboriginal novelty is offset by 
the dirt and poor cooking of these 'children of the forest.' 
The last of the great scouts has, as an offset, thirty per 
day and no rams. The sublime scenery will ever re- 
main in one's memory as the only thing free. It costs 
nothing but the labor of getting through and around 
and over it. Even this grand display on this day does 
not look good to me." 

The next day we retraced our steps, making a forty 
mile trip. On that day we came to where the game 
warden had told us he camped the night before he came 
to our camp. We found two nice, fat quarters of ven- 
ison, snugly wrapped up in a gunny sack, hanging on 
a tree near his camp. It was also a closed season on 
deer. We had two fine pieces of venison to eat on for 
the next few days. I do not know who killed that deer, 
but I do know who helped to eat it. It was about an 
even swap, two quarters of mutton for a half of a big 
buck. I assure you that I had nothing to do with 
taking the venison. I had made a resolution to be 
good the rest of my stay in British Columbia. 

We staid only one night at this camp. From here 



152 



So7ne Big Game Hunts 



we passed "Horse Skull Camp" and headed up past 
the big, red mountain, where I had killed the ram. We 
selected a beautiful camp site back of Sanford Moun- 
tain. This camp I named "Seclusion." It was here 
that I really felt that we were away from game wardens, 
not that I had any idea of violating the game laws, but 
I really felt as if I did not want to even see one again. 

We staid here several days, seeing many fine bucks 
and many does and fawns. The pine slopes here were 
full of grouse and porcupine. While hunting one day 
near this camp, I ran into a bunch of wild hogs. There 
were forty or fifty in the bunch. While at this camp 
we also saw four beautiful wild horses. They were as 
wild as deer. 

A young wild pig, I believe, is a delicacy when well 




Patiently wuitiny for /ti.s pack. 



British Columbia 153 

roasted between two gold washing pans, that very few 
have ever indulged in. "Possom and taters" are not 
in the same class, with roast pig served in this way. 
As Charles Lamb says of roast pig: "The strong man 
may fatten on it and the weakling refuseth not its ten- 
der juices." 

These hogs and horses, or their ancestors, evidently 
had at some time belonged to some prospector who had 
abandoned them, or they had strayed away and adopted 
this wild life. There is not at this time anyone living 
within a hundred miles of this locality. 

While hunting one afternoon a few miles from the 
camp, I saw two little fawns. I decided that I would 
sit still and watch their antics. They discovered me 
and began slowly approaching me. I put my hands 
to my ears and worked my hands back and forth like 
the ears of a mule-eared deer. They came up to with- 
in ten feet of me. Poor, little, innocent, unsuspecting 
things! Had I been a cougar the ending would have 
been much different. I quietly got up and let them 
go on their way. They are probably wondering to 
this day what that thing was they discovered. I for- 
got. Animals do not reason or wonder. If some do 
not, I cannot see the difference. 

One day while seated on the highest peak of a very 
tall mountain, I thought: "It has taken me hours of 
hard, patient climbing to reach this point, only to look 
back over the route and behold the difficulties I have 
sui-mounted. I was at the top. The climax had been 



154 



Some Big Game Hunts 



attained on that mountain, yet there were others far- 
ther on. I thought if one could only pause on the high 
places in this life and view those not conquered and 
look down and behold the difficulties of the upward 




'Billie" and some rams. (Photo by Manson.) 



British Columbia 155 

climb, this moment of exaltation would in part pay for 
his labors and inspire him with new courage and deter- 
mination to continue the upward march. However, 
others want your view point and you must either step 
down on the other side or continue your labors uninter- 
ruptedly. Many of our best friends do not see the 
hardest part of our labors. The very designs of our 
works are soon lost sight of and the pattern, as well as 
the architect, is soon lost and forgotten. 

"Our labors are often like the pitch ladened pine 
faggots that burn best and brightest and give out the 
most radiance soon after the application of the match." 

The solitude one experiences on the tops of these vast 
mountains, when alone, makes him feel as if the very 
soul of his body had taken its departure and he seems 
to be a part of the rocks about him. I thought of the 
out of season sheep killing episode, while seated on this 
mountain. "Our evil deeds, like the smoke from the 
campfire, pursue us where'er we go, blinding our eyes 
to the many beautiful objects surrounding us." 

We remained at camp Seclusion several days. This 
was the most beautiful camp site I have ever seen. I 
could spend part of each year here, with much pleasure 
and contentment. This was a regular porcupine center. 
We had to hang our saddles, bridles, and in fact, every- 
thing left out of the tents, up on swinging limbs to keep 
the villians from gnawing them to pieces. It was at 
this camp that I had quite a little porcupine excite- 
ment. These animals evince no fear of man, as a rule, 



156 Some Big Game Hunts 

and will invade his tent, unless a fire is left burning, 
or the tent door is kept closed. They will crawl all 
over your bed and your face, too, if uncovered. The 
year before, one had gotten into a hunter's tent and was 
crawling around over his head, when the hunter struck 
at him with his hand. Quick as a flash, "porky" 
slapped his tail on to his face and head, leaving eighty- 
five quills sticking in the skin. It was a torture to have 
them removed. He developed erysipelas and came 
near dying. 

I was sound asleep, one night, in my floored seven 
by seven by seven tent. I felt something slowly creep- 
ing up on my feet, then up to my knees. I thought, 
there is a "porky" in my tent. I must keep still. I 
pulled my head and neck into my sleeping bag, like a 
land terrapin. All the time the beast was seemingly 
getting nearer my head. I expected each second to 
feel the slap of his needled tail on my head. Great 
drops of cold perspiration stood out all over my body. 
I was afraid to hollo or move. Can you imagine a 
rattlesnake in bed with you, and you are expected to 
keep still to prevent getting bitten by the snake? 
Such were my feelings during the time I was being be- 
sieged by this varmint. I could stand it no longer. I 
holloed frantically, "Porky! kill him quick before he 
needles me." I imagined that he was going to tattoo 
me in good shape. Just about the time I was ready 
to give up, Mr. Hodges gave the pine boughs a big jerk 
with the string he had stretched through my tent dur- 



British Columbia 



157 



ing the day. I will always sympathize with anyone 
who has a porky scare as near the real thing as was this 
one. 




CHAPTER XIV. 

CAMP SECLUSION. MOUNTAIN GOATS AND THEIR 
TRAITS. KILLING GOATS. 

In many places we found where forest fires had swept 
over large areas of the country. The dry, white, 
flinty, lodge-pole pines stood like grim death shafts, 
left standing to mark the destructive march of the fire. 
Millions of tangled limbs and trunks were piled in 
masses of confusion over the giound, while the young 
Jack pines, like a boundless nursery, were starting a 
new crop of telephone poles. 

Traveling through, under and over this tangle of the 
living and the dead is attended by many falls, much 
difficulty, many epithets and the loss of numerous 
patches of clothing and epidermis. The manner in 
which a trained pack horse gets through this tangled 
skein of fallen timber is a marvel. Occasionally the 
ever-present axe must be taken from its holster and a 
few logs cut to make the route possible. 

Very few of the many hunters who have gone into a 
new country have returned without having something 
named after them. Some tall isolated peak is the 
usual favorite. I know one famous hunter who has 
mountains galore all over this country that have been 
given his name, but like the fleeting shadow of the 



British Columbia 



159 




Mt. Cordier. 



passing cloud, the name remains, only, while the hunter 
and his guide are passing. The next passing cloud will 
make another shadow. I have even been known to 
have visions of my name on the maps of the future, by 
the side of some, at this time, unnamed peak. So far 
the dream has not come true. There are enough peaks 
in the Rockies for all, if the Smiths and Jones are left 
out of the list. 

Near Camp Limit, there is a peak that stands out 
prominently from its fellows. This peak measures by 
aneroid, ten thousand feet above sea level. Mr. Hod- 
ges named this peak Mount Cordier. He did not label 
it as such, hence, I presume it has been divorced and 
has changed its name several times since we parted. 

Hoary old mountains, pioneers of the sky's frontier, 



160 Some Big Game Hunts 

raised their broad shoulders and shaggy heads to dizzy 
heights. Their faces, wrinkled by time, climate and 
the storms of countless centuries, in their dotage, are 
crumbling and losing their grandeur. Great masses 
of slide rock, the evidence of decay, are to be seen on 
every mountain slope. These towering giants are to 
crumble until all canons are filled and all crags have 
disappeared. The cascades are peculiarly picturesque, 
with their sharp spire-like projections and roof pitched 
sides. The rocks are softer than those of our Rocky 
mountains, hence the constant crumbling from the 
above-mentioned causes. 

After leaving Camp Seclusion, we traveled north up 
a small stream to timber line. This took us to the base 
of Big Red Mountain, which we circled to the east and 
passed down the shin of the divide to a small stream, 
a branch of the Frazier. We had been hunting on the 
Bridge water' shed up to this time. A long, hard day's 
traveling brought us to the goat country. We passed 
many old camp sites, where the Indians — Lillooetins 
and Chilcotins — for ages had made their annual hunt- 
ing pilgrimage. Old and new tent poles, turkish baths 
— a la Siwash — and drying scaffolds all told the story, 
that we had been reading from day to day, of the grad- 
ual, but sure extermination of the fauna of that coun- 
try. 

We camped early in the most miserable and un- 
attractive spot of the whole trip, A forest fire had 
swoi)t the mountain side the year before , destroying 



British Columbia 



161 



most of the timber save a few, old, snarled pines that 
were battling for existence on an isolated, barren spot 
that the flames could not leap across. The dead trees 
were falling about us all night, as a storm threatened 
to break on us at any minute. Bonaparte felled sev- 
eral dead trees before striking camp that were too close 
for comfort or safety. We did not have bough beds 
that night, as we were to move early the next morning 
to "spy" for goat. The tangled mass of dead and fal- 
len bamboo-like pines was the hardest to get through 1 
have evei seen. Underneath, over and on top of these 
"jack straws" we climbed, fell, swore and slid until I 
was about ready to sell out my interest in the goat pro- 
ject at a discount. 

In spite of that tangled skein, the place was full of 




"Camp Seclusion." 



162 Some Big Game Hunts 

deer. No big bucks, but all does, fawns and spike 
bucks. The big stags remain high above timber line 
until the snow drives them down. In one of our breath- 
ing spells, I looked across the gulch and I saw five moun- 
tain goats, delibertly feeding, but too far for a good 
view without the glasses. We could make out that 
there was not a big billy with them. This discovery 
was truly encouraging, and our journey back to camp 
with this news made the trip much easier. 

The next morning we were up early and on the move 
to a better camp site. We found a most delightful 
location, just at the head of a small glacier and snugly 
surrounded by stately pines and firs. 

In the afternoon we hunted north of our camp, where 
we had seen the goats the evening before. We found 
signs in abundance, but no goats. The next day, about 
noon, after a disappointing and fruitless search for 
game, while discussing the best thing to do, I looked 
across the range about three miles, and in plain view 
with the aid of my glass I could see twenty-three moun- 
tain goats. We quickly saddled our horses and started 
in a circuitous route after them. It took about two 
hours of hard traveling to get to a point where we had 
decided to leave our horses. It was growing very dark 
as a storm was approaching. However, we were soon 
on our downward climb to the spot where we had last 
seen the goats. When within a few hundred yards, 
we discovered them, slowly moving toward the timber. 
Within the space of five minutes, a blinding rain and 



British Columbia 



163 




From this point we "spied" the goats. 



snow storm burst upon us, chilling us bodily, and dam- 
pening our ardor on goat hunting very much. When 
we reached the spot where we had a few moments ago 
seen the goats, not an animal could we find. We hun- 
ted for an hour, back and forth, over the mountain. 
The storm had now spent its force and the sun was 
shining brightly. We had just about abandoned the 
hunt for that day, when we discovered the goats in a 
little patch of underbrush not sixty yards away. In 
fact, we were practically surrounded by goats. We 
had walked right into the middle of the flock. The 
first goat that I saw was a big fellow, standing on a log 
not over thirty yards away, viewing me as complacently 
as the family Jersey would the approach of the milk- 
maid. I thought: that is a good museum specimen; 



164 Some Big Game Hunts 

I will try not to injure the specimen for a good mount 
or a rug. The rug is a beauty. The three of us got 
seven within a few seconds and could have killed several 
more. We had a nice, tender kid for a gold pan bake 
the next day. Every pelt was saved. 

Of all the animals possessing the power of escape of 
the mountain goat, he is the most idiotic. He is a fast 
runner, especially down hill, but he will stand and gaze 
at you as stupidly as a porcupine, on many occasions, 
even though you are in a stone's throw of him. He is 
a hard animal to get acquainted with, for all his seeming 
docility, as his haunts are in the most remote mountain 
ranges and on the highest and most difficult peaks. 

The stupidity of these animals was illustrated by 
the seeming indifference of a goat to my presence, after 
we had killed all we wished out of this flock. After 
ceasing our fire, I walked to a carcass not over sixty 
yards away. I had been looking at it, probably five 
minutes, when I discovered a big goat not twenty yards 
from me, standing on a log, calmly surveying me, 
evincing no fear. I walked to within ten yards of him 
before he took flight. I have never seen such a reck- 
less, headlong, rapid, down-hill descent by any animal, 
as was made by that goat. His jumps were short, but 
very quick and directly down the mountain side, each 
jump in the soft, dry ashes-like earth sent up a cloud 
of dust and left a ragged hole like that made by a met- 
eor or thirteen inch solid shot. His awakening to his 
surroundings was as sudden as his stupid deliberations 



British Columbia 



165 



were amusing and absurd. With all the noise from 
our guns, the flight of his companions and the sight of 
man, his behavior was certainly a surprise. 

I can see no valid reason why any layman or natural- 
ist should think of classifying these animals as a spe- 
cies of antelope. There is absolutely no resemblance. 
He looks like a goat, acts like a goat, stinks like a goat 
and his meat tastes like goat meat. I think he is a 
goat as much as our familiar bill-board tomato can, 
suburban billy or nannie. 

The goat has a peculiar, India rubber-like sole to his 
feet, surrounded by a casing of ordinary hoof-like sub- 
stance. This arrangement of the feet makes him a 
good, safe climber, breaks the shocks of his fearless 
leaps and keeps the foot from splintering on the rocks. 

The style of whiskers the billy wears was much in 




A nice museum specimen. 



166 Some Big Game Hunts 

vogue about the time Horace Greeley figured in national 
politics. These goats have a facial resemblance to an 
old-time politician. 

The pelage of these goats is so spotlessly white that 
one could easily imagine that he dressed each morning 
in a fresh suit, just from the laundry. He is fearless, 
strong of limb and will power. When once started on 
a course, he is apt to pursue the same in the face of 
seeming insurmountable difficulties and dangers. His 
horns are black, very sharp and average about nine 
inches in length and four and one-half inches in circum- 
ference at the base. The females have the longest 
horns, as a rule. A record horn, I believe, measured 
about twelve inches. 

These goats were killed in September. They were 
not in full winter pelage. The under coat of fine, 
downy wool was at its best, but the long, coarse hairs 
that make up the so-called "rain coat" had just begun 
protruding above the surface of the under coat. 

When in full dress, one of these old, serious billies, 
as he leisurely strolls across the face of some almost 
perpendicular ledge of rock, reminds one of a drum 
major, leading a funeral procession. 

The mountain goat is a peculiar animal. In many 
respects the beast disregards established standards, 
so often noticed in other four footed animals. 

His coat is of the finest, made of soft, downy wool, 
while his domesticated cousins, the billy and nannie, 
wear a coarse, hairy outer garment. The female has 



British Columbia 



161 



the longest horns and is indeed a formidable defender 
of her young. Even a full sized grizzly bear has been 
killed by this queen of butters, while protecting her 
young. The billies are stupid acting, though gallant 




Packing-a-la-Siwash . 



168 Some Big Game Hunts 

* 
looking old dudes, dressed in pure white pantlets and 
jumper extending below the knees and elbows. 

Except during the mating season, "William" stays 
by himself, often confining his grazing range to a few 
hundred yards of almost grassless mountain side. You 
may often see him standing on some large, detached 
rock for hours at a time, reminding one, as he looks at 
him with a strong glass, of a beautifully carved Italian 
marble statue. 

The climbing ability of a mountain goat is almost 
beyond belief. He will scale rocky heights at almost 
a perpendicular angle, and is a far surer-footed animal 
than his big horned neighbor, Ovis Montana. His 
progress up the face of a steep mountain side is much 
slower than the big horn, but is sure and steady. He 
will permit you to approach him while stupidly looking 
at you. He will run from the scent of man much more 
quickly than from sight of him. 



CHAPTER XV. 

OUR LAST CAMP. SOME DEER AND GOAT HUNTING. 

THE BEAR WE DID NOT GET. ENGLISHMAN'S 

BEAR HUNT. 

We remained at goat camp a few days, curing skins and 
having a good time in general. From this camp we 
moved toward Lillooet, twenty miles, and camped at 
timber line. It is very important in selecting a camp 
in the cascades, to find a locality where the grass is 
abundant for the horses, and where you can get good 
water and plenty of wood. Frequent and severe wind 
storms are to be dreaded, hence your tents must be 
placed so that dead trees will not be blown down on 
them and so that the wind cannot blow them away. 
Unless you have been in one of these rushing, dry, 
wind storms, you cannot imagine the extent of dam- 
age they can do on short notice. If camp is made in a 
ravine approaching a mountain pass, the tents should 
be erected well to one side of the middle of the ravine, 
and preferably in a bunch of trees. 

While at this camp, we made frequent hunting ex- 
cursions to a good looking hunting ground for rams, 
but failed to see any. Many old signs were to be seen 
on every mountain top, but they were evidently made 



170 Some Big Game Hunts 

during the winter before, as this range is much lower 
than big Red Mountain. 

We killed one fine billy while at this camp. There 
were plenty of deer in every direction from our camp. 
We found fresh venison all the time, after the open 
season on deer began. It was no trouble to kill a nice 
buck any time we wanted fresh meat. 

Bear hunting in British Columbia can only be carried 
out successfully during the spring of the year. It is 
then that the foliage is off the underbrush below timber 
line, and above that point the mountains are covered 
with snow. This forces the bears into the open coun- 
try for their food, where they can be seen by the hunter. 

The mad rushes of the snow avalanches sweep the 
mountain side clean of everything movable, leaving 
vast stretches of bare ground, not even any of the snow 
remaining. These snow slide paths are often several 
miles long and a quarter of a mile wide. This gives 
good early spring feeding ground for the bears. These 
animals live on a herbivorous diet most of the year, 
eating grass, skunk cabbage, roots, berries and tender 
shoots from some of the underbrush. They never re- 
fuse meat when they can get it and will dig up and 
devour ground squirrels and mice. Their favorite diet 
during the summer is salmon. 

While at this camp I saw some very large tracks 
made by grizzlies. One day, while sitting on the moun- 
tain side near the foot of a long snow slide, I heard a 
noise as though some heavy animal were slowly ap- 



British Columbia 171 

preaching in the underbrush. Presently I saw the 
back of a brown, or cinnamon colored black bear above 
the willow tops in the snow slide. As he emerged from 
this underbrush into a little opening, I fired at him, 
twice. The second shot he went down and remained 
quite still. I thought I had killed him. I leisurely 
stepped off the distance to my supposed dead bear, it 
being one hundred and eighty-six yards. When I 
arrived at the spot where he was lying when last seen, 
there was no bear to be found, but evidence of where he 
had dragged himself over the avalanche drift wood was 
plainly to be seen. I looked about for some time, but 
failed to locate him. I have long since placed a much 
higher value on my own hide than on that of a bear. 
To follow that wounded bear into the underbrush alone 
and six miles away from the camp, just at dark, was 
not, in my judgment, a wise thing to do. 

I returned to the camp highly elated, as I was sure 
that I would get that bear early the next morning. 
Mr. Hodges accompanied me early the next day to the 
place where I had left the trail of the wounded bear. 
We looked for him, faithfully, for several hours, but 
never found him. 

The hunting country about Lillooet is a vast country, 
but I am sorry to say that as a desirable place in which 
to have successful hunting trip, I cannot endorse it. 
There is a class of mountains there that are hard to 
negotiate. The country is hunted to death by sports- 
men from all over the world. The Indians kill for 



172 Some Big Game Hunts 

sport, for sustenance, for the skins to make clothing and 
foot gear, and for the fur market. 

Guides with a long and varied experience meet many 
peculiar types of hunters. "Billy" related to me this 
bear story: 

"An Englishman of the snobbish 'remittance' type 
came to British Columbia, one spring, for a grizzly 
bear hunt. He insisted on being called 'Lord' So and 
So. This, within itself, was somewhat of a bore to 
'Bill,' as he had no use for these snobs, as he termed 
them, of English nobility. The 'Lord' had all the par- 
aphernalia for elephant and 'rhino' hunting, and in- 
sisted on taking tables, chairs and beds with him into 
the mountains on the hunt. Anyone who has been on 
a long journey over the trails and virgin passes of the 
Cascades in the early spring will fully realize the im- 
portance of tiaveling 'light.' At this time of the year 
the streams are swollen and full of ice and the sides 
of the mountains are a mass of slush aud soft, sliding 
snow. 

"Well, we finally reached the bear country and I felt 
sure we would get good sport, as fresh signs were to be 
seen on every slide. 

"We had been in camp only two days, when I spied 
a big grizzly bear on a slide two miles away. We 
headed for him. The 'Lord' had two big elephant 
rifles with him that I had to carry. We worked our 
way up the mountain to a good position, with the wind 
from the bear directly toward us. It looked favorable 



British Columbia 173 

for this amateur hunter to bag a grizzly. I placed him 
on a favorable location and warned him to keep quiet 
and on the lookout for the bear, as I would go below 
the bear where he would get wind of me and drive him 
toward the 'Lord's" stand. I left him and cautiously 
worked my way below the point where I had last seen 
the bear. When I got into a favorable position to peep 
over a little knoll I was much surprised to see three 
full gi'own, grizzly bears headed directly toward the 
Englishman, a half mile away. I waited in breathless 
suspense for the report of his gun. Bang! bang! came 
the reports of ten shots in quick succession. I hur- 
riedly climbed the mountain toward him, all the while 
repeating to myself, 'A fool for luck, a fool for luck,' as 
I expected to find him by the side of three dead griz- 
zlies, a feat very few hunters have ever performed on 
grizzlies. 

When within a hundred yards of him, I could hear 
him shouting, but could not understand what he was 
saying, but felt sure he had bagged the flock of bears. 
When within fifty yards of him, I saw him standing on 
a pile of avalanche driftwood twenty feet high, with 
his hat off, yelling at the top of his voice, 'Congrat- 
ulations, congratulations! Hi succeeded. Hi succeeded!' 
I holloed to him, 'Where are they? How many did 
you kill?' 'Oh, Hi did not kill any of them! Hi suc- 
ceeded in scaring the whole lot away.' 

He had fired every shot into the air, frightening the 
bears away, and was much surprised at my actions 



174 



Some Big Game Hunts 



when I threw that table away — you see the remains 
over there — packed up and pulled out for home, where 
I dismissed myself from the Englishman's service." 

While in Lillooet, Mr. Hodges pui chased a musical 
instrument of unknown ancestry and much discord, 
from a half-crazed, love-sick Chinaman. This pur- 
chase created much amusement on our way home, as 
Mr. Hodges was frequently importuned to play a few 
pieces, but was usually excused when he stated that 
he was carrying the instrument home for the doctor. 



ALASKA 



CHAPTER XVI. 

KODIAK ISLAND, ALASKA, HUNTING TRIP. SCENES 
AND INCIDENTS EN ROUTE. 

I had hunted and bagged a specimen of about all the 
big game in the United States and Canada, and in 
looking about for a new territory in which to hunt I 
was not long in deciding on Kodiak Island, off the pen- 
insula of Alaska, as the next objective point. It is 
away off on this island, over two thousand miles north 
and west of Seattle, that the largest and most powerful 
carnivorous animal in the world is to be found. The 
Kodiak brown bear (ursus mittendorff) is found only 
on this island and the nearby Kenai Alaskan penin- 
sula. 

I had corresponded with a guide on Uyak Bay for a 
year, making arrangements for this hunt. Frank Hod- 
ges, a genuine hunter and true sportsman, was to be 
my hunting companion. When the time arrived for 
our departure, April 15th, he was feeling bad, but de- 
cided to accompany me as far as Seattle, hoping that 
he would get better before we reached this point, but 
much to my disappointment and sorrow, he became 
much worse, and his symptoms became so grave that 
I was compelled to remove him to a Seattle hospital 
and operate on him for an abscess of the liver. After 



178 



Some Big Game Hunts 




Kodiak Alaska. {Photo by J. E. T.) 



staying with him a few days, until the danger period 
was passed, I continued my journey toward Kodiak 
Island. 

While in Seattle, I met Mr. Alvord, as good a hunter 
as ever crossed or followed a trail. At my invitation, 
he accompanied me on the hunt, and to him is due 
much credit for the success of the trip. He is a good 
shot, cool and brave in time of danger, be it on the ocean 
in a storm or on the trail of a wounded bear. 

I am often asked why I go so far to hunt bear and 
other big game. My answer usually is: "Because 
there are no Kodiak brown bear, British Columbia 
mountain goat and grizzlies, or New Brunswick moose 
in Missouri, or Kansas, and besides, I get as much, or 
more, out of my traveling to and from the hunting 



Alaska 179 

grounds as the average tourist who whiles away his 
time on the sleeper or in his stateroom playing draw 
poker or solitaire." 

From Kansas City to Seattle is a journey as varied 
in temperature, altitude and fertility as any to be found 
in a like distance on this continent. The beautiful 
blue grass lawns and bright, warm, April sunshine of 
Missouri were in striking contrast with the barren sand 
dunes, sage brush and stunted cedar foothills and snow 
storms of Wyoming and Montana. Through Mon- 
tana we passed thousands of oval and rounded topped 
mounds with cattle-path-terraced sides, reminding one 
of the fanciful pictures of the foot-path sides of the 
Tower of Babel. After passing through Missoula, Mon- 
tana, we entered the two million acre reservation of 
the remaining Flat Head Indians. The valley is a 
beautiful, broad expanse of fertile land, surrounded by 
a low range of wooded mountains. I thought at the 
time that this piece of land was the most fertile and 
inviting of any tract that I had ever known the govern- 
ment to set aside for the Indians. My surprise at the 
nation's generosity was soon dispelled, when I learned 
that the reservation would soon be opened to white 
man's settlement. 

Ravalli, a little railroad station in this reservation, 
is the point from which the last, wild herd of native 
buffalo was shipped. While our national law-makers 
were asleep, in as far as concerns the preservation of 
the remnant of our vast herd of buffalo, the Canadian 



180 Some Big Game Hunts 

government, acting on the advice of Alexander Ayotte, 
purchased from Mitchel Pablo his six hundred head 
of buffalo, and shipped them from Ravalli, Montana, 
to a reservation near Fort Saskatchawan. Pablo re- 
ceived over two hundred thousand dollars for the herd. 

Vast herds of cattle were grazing on the sparse grass 
and sedge brush on the unlimited ranges of Wyoming 
and Montana. Many dead cattle, which had frozen 
during the winter, were piled against the wire fences 
or in canons. As we passed one carcass, eight coyotes 
slunk away up the hillside, reminding one of the African 
hyena, with his fondness for the refuse of other and bra- 
ver flesh eating animals. 

On a little barren knoll within a few hundred yards 
of the spot on which gallant Custer and his brave little 
band were massacred by the Indians under Old Sitting 
Bull is a solitary Indian grave marked by a rudely 
constructed monument of cobble stones. A silent 
mockery, so to speak, of the greatness of this daring 
soldier and his memories. 

The last resting-place of this great soldier and the 
brave men who fought and died with him is marked 
by a granite shaft, surrounded by white marble slabs 
arranged in methodical manner, many of which are 
unmarked. This battle was indeed one of many sac- 
rifices, but was in reality the beginning of the end of 
the Indian warfare, as no great battles have been fought 
with the red man since. The days of his kind are 
surely numbered. He must either become a "good 



Alaska 181 

Indian" or become extinct. The latter solution seems 
to be his doom. 

I witnessed a scene near the Crow agency that por- 
trayed the mingling of the old and the new Indian. 
Near a modern-constructed frame dwelling, I saw an 
Indian tepee. In front of the house a young buck was 
polishing the brasses on his automobile, while his squaw 
was viewing a passing train with a high-power field 
glass. An old warrior with his feet in moccasins was 
polishing a pair of buffalo horns, while an old, wrinkled 
squaw was tanning a coyote skin. The latter scene 
was one of pathos and a parting of the old and the new. 
A resolving picture of disappearing primitive life and 
initiatory modern civilization. 

Near the Custer battle field we saw eight coyotes, 
the hyenas of the prairies, slinking away from the rail- 
road right-of-way. Their sly, treacherous and stealthy 
nature was portrayed in their every movement. Hunted 
to the very verge of extinction, these wild dogs are ever 
on the lookout for their enemy. It is marvelous how 
they have survived man's intrusion on their domain. 
They are prolific breeders and can live on a little fresh 
air and a few grasshoppers for a long time. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

ON BOARD THE STEAMSHIP OHIO, THROUGH THE FAMOUS 
"inside PASSAGE" ALONG THE ALASKAN COAST. 

On April 24th, we started from Seattle on the Steam- 
ship Ohio, a boat three hundred and sixty feet long, 
with an iron hull. A fairly good boat, but a little out 
of date. This boat was formerly an Atlantic liner, 
owned, I was told, by the Star Company. I learned 
it was in this same boat that General U. S. Grant, in 
1876, made part of his famous tour of the world. In 
my fancy, I could hear the roar of the cannon's salute, 
still echoing in her staterooms, as the boat with her 
brave soldier and honered statesman dropped anchor 
at the ports of the world. I could see the crowned 
heads of all nations, as they advanced to welcome their 
honored guest. 

I thought how time has wrought many changes, and 
I realized fully these changes when I looked forward 
and beheld the thirteen hundred head of live sheep in 
four deep tiers of cages above deck, and fully two hun- 
dred quarters of slaughtered steers hanging around the 
promenade deck. The people of Alaska must have 
fresh meat or scurvy. They very sensibly choose the 
former. 

To anyone accustomed to rapid transit, be it by 



Alaska 183 

automobile, Atlantic liner or limited express train, 
his patience will surely be taxed while making the vast 
distance along the Alaskan coast, on the creeping-like 
slowness of the coast boats. The first one you start 
on seems slow enough, the next you think is the limit, 
then comes "beyond the limit" and at last the finish. 
But why should we hurry? The world is moving fast 
and we should go slowly if we want to be long here. 
To the tourist, a trip on one of the well equipped boats 
making the run from Seattle to Skagway, Juneau and 
Sitka is a pleasure ever enjoyed, and will amply repay 
one for the time and money spent. If one lets his 
journey end here and turns his face toward home, he 
has not yet begun to see Alaska, with all her beauties 
and wonders. Sitka may be appropriately termed the 
gateway or ticket office to the big show beyond. 

The stage settings of this vast arena are indeed gor- 
geous, marvelous and superbly grand. They represent 
the ceaseless work for countless eons of those indefatig- 
able sculptors and painters of nature's most marvelous 
scenery. 

These artisans included among their toilers, the gods; 
Vulcan, Neptune and others: All past masters in their 
specialties. Here are the stage settings just as they 
left them, with no effacements from the hands of the 
despoilers, such as saw mills, railroads, sky scrapers, 
flats, business blocks and factories. One cannot travel 
along in front of the footlights without pausing in pro- 
found admiration at these wonders of wonders, think- 



184 



Some Big Game Hunts 



ing how long this preformance had been going on and 
how rarely had human eyes gazed on the scene. The 
scene is cold and uninviting, yet there is a grandeur and 
a sublimity about it that holds one spell-bound before 
its mesmeric and enchanted charms. 

It would seem that here old Mother Earth had passed 
her three score and ten ; that her poor old countenance 
had been wrinkled and furrowed by the ravages of time 
and trouble and that the snow god in his commiseration 
had taken pity on her and had drawn a shroud of the 
purest white over the departed beauty of her dying 
face. Death was surely terrible on this battle field 
of fire and water. The unbroken procession of these 
shrouded old monarchs, as one passes them, grows 
monotonous and one longs for the boundless prairies 




Sitka. It was here on October ISth, 1867, the stars and stripes 
supplanted the Russian flag. 



Alaska 185 

of Kansas or the bounteous blue grass pastures of Ken- 
tucky with their grazing herds. 

As you go along these rock-bound shores, a vast pan- 
orama unrolls before you; here you have towering snow- 
capped peaks, distorted, gnashed and furrowed moun- 
tain sides, abysses, empty or perchance filled with river- 
like, slowly moving glaciers. On first beholding scenes 
like this, the effect is one of exquisite delight and pro- 
found admiration, but you tire of the monotony, after 
following the shore line for two thousand miles. 

In passing through Georgian Bay, we did not see a 
whale; this is a favorite feeding ground for these mam- 
mals, later in the season. The water in this bay during 
the early evening was beautifully phosphorescent. 

As we passed through Queen Charlotte Sound, a run 
of four hours, the boat rolled from the side swells so 
that a number of the passengers refused to take any 
interest in the bill of fare. In fact, I know of two or 
three hunters who tried the dried beef and codfish 
remedy for sea sickness. Even now, as a physician, 
I would hesitate to recommend either as a curative or 
prophylactic remedy. 

Our boat was too large to go through Wrangle Nar- 
rows, hence we steamed around the north end of Prince 
of Wales Island. During the night, here, we also 
struck some swells that caused the boat to roll badly. 

While going up on the steamer, we met four bear 
hunters, Mr. Hillis, of Oregon, Mr. King, of California, 
Judge Williams and Dr. Anderson of Colorado. They 



186 Some Big Game Hunts 

were a jolly lot, and the bear and other hunting stories, 
as recited while visiting in each others staterooms would 
fill a volume. Each day we formed a line of march for 
exercise on deck, with the Judge as leader, inviting all 
on board who desired to join in. Frequently, we had 
in line, including a number of ladies, an unbroken circle 
about the deck, necessitating taking the lock step. 
This part of the performance usually brought all the 
married men into the procession with their wives. 
"Marching through Georgia" and other old-fashioned 
songs were usually sung during this "stomp" dance 
around the deck. This grand march was kept up until 
three miles was walked, both in the forenoon and after- 
noon. 

On our up-trip on the Ohio, I was informed that we 
had on board about six hundred passengers, many of 
whom were going to Cordovia to work on the Copper 
River railroad. Think of it! Six hundred passengers 
on board a steamer with a life saving boat capacity of 
only two hundred. Somebody would have drowned, 
had the boat gone down. 

After leaving Juneau, we steamed down Douglas 
Straight around Douglas Island and into Icy Strait. 
These boats are not expected to go through these dan- 
gerous gauntlets of icebergs, except in clear weather, 
or by daylight. However, we steamed through these 
frozen masses in a fog at midnight. A number of times 
the boat was dangerously near some large bergs, but 
missed them. 



Alaska 



187 




Icebergs floated lazily to their death. 

On our return trip, I had the pleasure of viewing 
this grand possession of the off shoots of Muir Glacier, 
by daylight. 

Many icebergs of all sizes and shapes with snow 
white crowns and robes of turquoise blue, bedecked in 
myriads of the purest of pure white diamond-like cry- 
stals, floated lazily in the sparkling liquid blue waters 
of the sea, to their death. From their long imprison- 
ment, these sparkling, frozen, icy particles burst forth 
in the flood of sunlight with a splendor indescribably 
beautiful. Add to the scene the constant roar of the 
glaciers cannonading and the fall of the advance ice 
barricade guard from the persistant onslaught of the 
merciless ocean waves, and the scene is truly one of a 
battle to the death, with the Pacific and time as the 
victors. 



188 Some Big Game Hunts 

The scene from a distance reminded me of a slowly 
moving flock of sheep, being driven across a vast, blue 
grass pasture. The bergs had just been driven by the 
tide through the gateway into Glacier Bay, on their 
journey from Muir Glacier to Icy Strait. This glacier, 
with a frontage two miles wide and one thousand feet 
deep, is one of the most beautiful in the world. It is 
receding at the rate of about two miles in ten years, 
according to a recent estimate of John Muir. 

After passing Cape Spencer we entered the Northern 
Pacific ocean, our next destination being Cordovia. 
There existed a vast solitude on the Northern Pacific 
Ocean on calm, moonlight nights, as our boat was noise- 
lessly propelled through the smooth water. Now and 
then some night bird prowler, with an unknown voice, 
to me, would call to his mate, as he whirled past the 
boat, or perchance, on some drifting iceberg some wing- 
tired birds had found a resting place. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

THROUGH ICY STRAIT IN A NORTHERN PACIFIC STORM 

ON A FOGGY NIGHT, ON BOARD A SHIP WITH 

A BROKEN RUDDER CHAIN. 

From Cape Spencer northwest it is thirty-six hours 
run to Cape St. Elias. From this cape on the south- 
west shore of Kayak Island, dangerous hidden reefs 
jut out into the ocean for five miles, then there is a deep 
and safe gap five or six miles in width, extending to 
another chain of dangerous rocks. In going from Cape 
Spencer to Cordovia, Cape St. Elias is the land mark 
pointing out the deep water through which it is safe 
for boats to go. From this point a new log reckoning 
is started to Cape Henchenbrook, sixty miles farther 
northwest. Neither of these dangerous reefs are 
marked by a lighthouse, buoy or other warning signals. 

Steamers going through this safe, five mile wide 
channel in the night or in a dense fog, must depend on 
their reckoning and the distance traveled from the log 
reading, both unreliable in a fog, storm, or high, swift 
running tide. A drift to either side during the thirty- 
six hours time from Cape Spencer or the over running 
of the log reading may mean the missing of the safe 
channel and wrecking of the boat. 

On our up trip we arrived at this part of our ocean 



190 Some Big Game Hunts 

journey at about one o'clock at night in a heavy fog 
and a terrific storm. The waves were almost dashing 
into the smoke stacks. Our boat was carrying over 
thirteen hundred head of live sheep in four-story pens 
built on the front of the boat almost to the top of the 
smoke stacks, and there were at least two hundred 
quarters of slaughtered cattle, hanging from iron hooks 
strung from the eaves of the hurricane deck, completely 
obstructing the view of the ocean from the doors and 
windows of our staterooms, all of which open out on 
the promenade deck. 

When we arrived in what the captain thought was 
the vicinity of Cape St. Elias, the storm and fog were 
at their worst. The pilot could not see his usual 
guiding landmarks and to complicate the situation, 
the distance traveled according to the log reading was 
far beyond Cape St. Elias, a situation not at all to be 
desired. The captain decided to head for the open 
ocean or safe waters until morning, or until the storm 
subsided. In attempting to make this turn, the chain 
controlling the rudder parted and control of the steamer 
was completely lost. The boat, one minute, would 
roll about in the trough of the high running seas, the 
next instant the fore part of the boat would rise like a 
great monster drawing itself over lofty mountain 
heights, only to take a plunge in the valley just beyond 
the summit. Oh, how utterly insignificant and helpless 
one feels in an ocean storm, with the very safe-guard 
of his life being tossed and toyed with by the merciless 



Alaska 191 

waves, as a cat would play with a mouse! The machin- 
ery had ceased, except the chug! chug! of the water 
pumps. 

The ship was completely dark, save an occasional 
lantern, like a jack-o-lantern or a phosphorescent ball 
of fire moving about slowly, or like a giant lightning 
bug on a misty, foggy night. The orders could be 
faintly heard above the splash and roar of the towering 
waves. Add to all this noise and confusion the pathe- 
tic bleating of thirteen hundred sheep, and the screech- 
ing of night birds, and it would tend to make the strong- 
est and most courageous feel that — well, dry land is 
a good place to be on in a storm. A cyclone cellar will 
not sink and drown you. 

The quarters of beef began falling on deck and as the 
boat would stand on end, a few hundred pounds of raw 
meat would take a flight downward along the prom- 
enade deck, converting it into a ten pin alley, using the 
other hanging quarters for the pins, knocking them 
down dozens at a time. This skidding meat was a 
danger to be avoided by the officers and crew who were 
trying to get to the rudder chain to repair it. In an 
hour or two it was repaired, and much to the surprise 
of the officers, they discovered Cape Hinchenbrook, 
sixty miles beyond the dangerous reef they were afraid 
of during the night. They had actually piloted the 
boat so accurately for thirty-six hours that she steamed 
through a space of safe water only five miles wide, and 
that too, in a dense fog and storm of no little fury. 



192 Some Big Game Hunts 

"All is well that ends well," but do not try it too often. 

All the while the wind was howling, the boat tossing 
and the waves dashing overboard, the wireless instru- 
ment that was located exactly over my stateroom kept 
up a constant buzzing, as the operator called, time and 
again, first "A. N.-Cordovia," then "-S. O.-Catilla." 
The persistent calling of the wireless would naturally 
arouse the suspicions of the most confiding, in the midst 
of such a storm, on a vessel with a broken rudder chain, 
with the boat drifting dangerously near hidden reefs. 
I wondered what he was saying, and fully resolved to 
learn the wireless code. 

I was dreadfully anxious to see a piece of Kansas 
City's dry soil, about that time. In fact, I resolved 
to eat a piece of Missouri River mud pie on my return. 
We learned the next day at Cordovia that the "Jenie," 
a good-sized steamer loaded with explosives, had broken 
her propeller shaft while near Cape St. Elias during 
the same storm. The steamer "Bertha" was also near 
us. The latter boat took charge of the Jenie and towed 
her to Cordovia, and from there to Seattle for repairs. 
The steamship Ohio, two months later, sank near 
Wrangle, Alaska. 

The wreck of the steamer Ohio, August 3rd, 1909, 
recalls a peculiar string of accidents to the five trans- 
port steamers carrying the third expedition of troops 
that sailed from San Francisco to the Philippines, as 
a part of General Merritt's army. There were five 
ships. Of this number, four have been wrecked and 



Alaska 193 

lost: The Indiana, Morgan City, Valencia, City of 
Para and the Ohio. The expedition was commanded 
by the now ranking officer of the army, General Mac- 
Arthur. 

The Morgan City was lost in Japanese waters, the 
Indiana was lost off the shore of South America, the 
Valencia was wrecked near Seattle, with terrible loss 
of life. Soma of the passengers hung to the rigging for 
days, with help in sight, but unable to reach them. The 
Ohio has had a career of accidents. In 1908, she was 
•caught in the ice on Bering Sea, near Nome, and im- 
prisoned for forty-five days. She has been gutted by 
fire. The sinking of the Ohio, like a faithful officer, 
dead at his post, is a fitting termination of the old, 
faithful iron-clad. 

I do not like to think what would have happened to 
the six hundred and eighty passengers on the night of 
the terrific storm near Cape St. Elias, when the rudder 
chain parted. Had she struck a reef that night no one 
would have been saved. 

The official report, in part, of Captain Johnson, of 
the Ohio, is given below: 

"There was a strong wind from the southeast, and 
the weather was very dirty. I went below at midnight 
and was relieved by Captain Snow, the pilot. Later 
I was called, as the storm was getting worse. The 
Ohio undoubtedly struck one of these pinnacled rocks 
which are being discovered from time to time in the 
Alaskan waters. There are many of these dangers to 



194 



Some Big Game Hunts 



navigation which are not chartered, and the only way 
in which they are brought to notice is under circum- 
stances similar to this, when a good ship is wrecked." 




CHAPTER XIX. 

CORDOVIA, VALDEZ, SEWARD, SEAL ROCKS, COOK'S IN- 
LET, MOUNT MCKINLEY. 

It was raining very hard when we landed at Cor- 
dovia. The wharf looked like a parade on which was 
being held a Goodyear rubber and umbrella picnic. 
Everybody had on gum coats, gum hats, rubber boots 
— many of the ladies had on rubber boots — rubber gloves 
and oiled umbrellas. I actually saw two bulldogs with 
mackintoshes on their backs, their ugly faces frowning 
at you from under celluloid eye shields and isinglass 
goggles. I asked one thoroughly insulated individual 
how long it had been raining. He replied, "Only two 
weeks, this time.' I asked him it if rained all the time 
there that way. He replied, "No, it snows like hell, 
sometimes." 

This town is having quite a little boom at this time, 
owing to the Guigenheim interest pushing the Copper 
River railroad to some valuable copper property one 
hundred and fifty miles up the Copper River. The 
town is built on moss beds, trunda and glacial mor- 
aines. The streets were full of slush and snow banks 
many feet high. 

The gold fever is a peculiar disease — one in which 
a single attack does not bring with it immunity from 



196 



Some Big Game Hunts 



subsequent spells. In fact, when once contracted, it 
is very hard to make it let up at all. On our boat were 
two men over eighty years old, both "forty-niners," 
still seeking the "lucky strike," inveterate gamblers 
in life's pursuits, taking the loser's end with no regrets, 
but resolved to try again. They were going west to 
look for gold on the Aleutian Islands. Both were hale 
and happy and "sure to find it this time." 

After remaining in Cordovia a number of hours, and 
unloading supplies and railroad laborers, the boat 
steamed off for Valdez, our next stop. This trip was 
made in a few hours. 

Valdez is located at the head of Port Valdez, a beau- 
tiful fiord about twelve miles long. As the boat steams 
up this irresistibly enchanting bay the mountain peaks 




Cordovia. The ocean terminus of the Copper River Railroad. 
{Photo by J. E. T.) 



Alaska 197 

seem to be in pairs, methodically arranged, one lifting 
its marbleized spire into the sky, while its reflected 
companion dips its head to the very depths of the mer- 
cury-like coated bottom of the bay. 

Valdez, the rival of Seward and the origin of a rail- 
road of a few miles in extent, is the ocean end of the 
three hundred and eighty-six miles, Fairbanks trail. 
The town is built on a glacial deposited moraine at the 
head of Valdez Bay. The town, while showing evidence 
of some thrift, presented an appearance, in a general 
way, of decay. Many dilapidated and vacant store 
rooms marked the departure of merchants in all depart- 
ments. 

Valdez is our most northern Pacific port, and is the 
nearest to the pole of any port in the world, remaining 
unobstructed by ice the whole year. Here we unloaded 
our cargo of sheep. The poor brutes were a sorry look- 
ing lot. The owner was going to drive them across the 
mountains to Fairbanks, a distance of three hundred 
and eighty-six miles. I fear some poor mutton was 
delivered to the meat eaters of Fairbanks. Fort Lis- 
cum, across Valdez Bay, is a two-company post, gar- 
risoned by a portion of the Twenty-second United 
States Infantry under the command of Captain Strit- 
zinger. This is a peaceable country, and I am at a loss 
to know how the soldiers pass their time in this lonely 
fort. I was told that the officers usually spent "steamer 
night" in Valdez, this being a night of balls and other 
festivities, especially the latter. 




A Copper River native. (Photo, by unknown.) 



Alaska 199 

From Valdez to Seward is a journey of eighteen hours. 
At Seward we took the Dora for Uyak. We staid in 
Seward thirty-six hours. I presume to help the hotels 
and restaurants, as I could see no reason why the Dora 
did not pull out the next morning after we arrived. We 
were only too glad to stay and visit with these good, 
kind-hearted people. While there we targeted our 
rifles and witnessed some marvelous trick rifle and pis- 
tol shooting by Mr. Hillis, one of the crack shots and 
big game hunters of the United States. Mr. King and 
Mr. Hillis were also on their way to Kodiak Island for 
a bear hunt. 

As we approached the entrance to Resurrection Bay 
a rock projecting from the water presented the ap- 
pearance of two giant elephants, belly deep in the surf, 
with their heads together, engaged in deadly conflict. 
This resemblance was made more real by a hole through 
the rock just under that portion of the rock resembling 
the heads of two elephants. 

On May 5th, we landed at Seward on the north shore 
of Resurrection Bay. I do not know why this beau- 
tiful body of land-locked and smooth water should be 
named Resurrection Bay, as it is far from suggesting 
a burial site or a ship's graveyard. Paradise Harbor 
would have been a more appropriate name. It is here 
that one is quickly relieved of all sea sickness. The 
waters in this eighteen miles of placid seclusion, as your 
boat steams through the narrow and rock-guarded 
entrance to the bay, become so quiet that those on 



200 Some Big Game Hunts 



board can easily imagine that the boat has dropped 
anchor or tied up to some quiet river wharf. This bay 
is the most beautiful body of water it has ever been my 
good fortune to look upon. 

The snow capped peaks four thousand feet high that 
completely surround the bay as you look at them, inter- 
spersed with deep ravines filled with glaciers, reflected 
from the deep blue bay water, form a picture the like of 
which will not be found at any other place on earth. 
The water looks so smooth that one can easily imagine 
that the mermaids had just gone ovei its surface and 
polished it with the finest of finishing powder, and that 
the water nymphs had completed their work by giving 
it a French plate mirror reflecting surface. The pic- 
ture cannot be described. 

When the ocean is being tossed by storm and the 
billows are running high, a few of the more daring waves 
will venture into this bay, but their energy is quickly 
expended and no danger is ever inflicted by theii faint 
endeavors. 

The tide runs so high in Resurrection Bay that the 
gravelly beach near the wharf at low tide at Seward 
was made to act as a dry dock for the Dora, on our re- 
turn, to save the boat from sinking on her arrival with 
her extra load of shipwrecked humanity and badly 
leaking hull. 

Seward is truly a haven of rest. It is there that one 
must leave the larger boats of the Northwestern Steam- 
ship Company and take the little Dora, if he is going 



Alaska 



201 



farther west than Kodiak. After the trip across the 
"open ocean," for forty-eight hours, many are only too 
glad to get ashore and eat a meal without the table 
"dash-board" rubbing their wrists raw. 

The trip along the shore reminds one very much of 
a malarial or relapsing fever. At each stopping place 
your ills intermit for the length of time you are at the 
wharf, only to relapse as soon as your boat makes a 
turn beyond the point into the open ocean. 

From Seward, one may within a few days reach, on 
the main land, the sportsman's dreamland. There are 
many thousand square miles of unexplored territory, 
teeming with big game of all kinds found in Alaska: 
bear, moose, sheep, goat, caribou and many small fur 
bearing animals. 

Seward and Valdez are bitter rivals, and this little 




Seivard, on beautiful Rcaurcction Bay. {Photo by J, E, T.) 



202 Some Big Game Hunts 

story is told by a Sewardite, about the ladies of Valdez. 
When asked by Miss Gordon to a most delightful, little 
dinner party, I inquired if it were a full dress affair, and 
was informed that it was to be very informal, as the 
people of Seward liked to be home-like on all occasions 
— and I assure you that I found them the most hos- 
pitable people I have ever met — but that the ladies in 
wet and rainy Valdez took off their gum boots and put 
on their slippers on such occasions. Gum boots on all 
feet and all occasions at Valdez are the very essence of 
good judgment and propriety. It rains and then rains 
some more — when not snowing, at Valdez. 

We left Seward at 6 A. M. on May 4th. As we 
steamed out into the Pacific from Resurrection Bay, I 
I felt as if I were leaving a true, old friend and was to 
deal with a treacherous unknown. 

We arrived at Homer — far from being poetical — at 
8 A. M. on the 5th, after crossing Kachemak Bay from 
Seldovia. There is a coal mine here, but the coal is of 
a poor grade and a bad steam-making quality. While 
crossing the bay we saw many white whales. I tried 
my rifle on a few of them, but they paid no attention 
to my shots. 

During the night of May 4th, the Dora stopped at 
Port Graham and Seldovia. After leaving Homer we 
steamed along the west coast of the bay, heading toward 
Cook's Inlet. We passed a number of active volcanoes. 
Illiamnia, twelve thousand feet high, is the largest, 
but St. Augustine, situated in the bay, is the most per- 



Alaska 203 

feet and symmetrical volcanic cone in the' world. It 
reminds one of a great, inverted morning glory, four 
thousand feet high and six miles across its base, its 
apex emitting steam that curls heavenward in the cold 
and crisp morning air like a great, climbing vine, the 
root of which is beyond the sky dome. 

Two volcanic up-lifts a few miles from the entrance 
to Resurrection Bay are the homes of many sea lions. 
These ponderous missing links between mammal and 
fish attain prodigious size. Some of the old bulls weigh 
as much as two tons. 

When within a few miles of these islands all on board 
the Dora appeared on deck to witness the sight of sights. 
Even those who from anticipating sea sickness had 
taken to their berths could not resist the desire to see 
real seal rocks and their hosts. It was indeed a grand 
and unique sight. The captain blew the whistle. It 
was the signal for the turning loose of a thousand of, 
the most unearthly, discordant sounds to which I have 
ever listened. 

The rocky benches for a hundred feet above the 
water were literally studded with these ungainly beasts. 
They were greatly alarmed and bewildered at the sound 
of the whistle and the sight of the little Dora, as she 
approached to within a half mile of their rookery. 
Many of them seemed to be panic stricken, confused 
and undecided what was best to do, while others made 
graceful head dives from great heights into the dashing 
surf below. The big, old bulls could be distinctly seen 



204 



Some Big Game Hunts 



towering above the lesser males and females, in the 
most defiant and aggressive attitudes possible for a 
monarch among sea lions to assume. All the while the 
terrific fog horn-like bellowing was kept up by those 
remaining on shore. We steamed by, leaving them 
in their seclusion and sea lion glory to await the ap- 
proach of the Dora, for a little diversion a month later. 
As we passed these volcanic island uplifts or rem- 
nants of towering mountains, their shelving sides, 




Scenery of enchanting beauty. 



Alaska 205 

ridge pole tops and over-hanging eaves reminded me 
of a densely populated pigeon roost or crow rookery. 
Thousands of gulls, sea parrots and birds unknown to 
me were perched in military rows of precision, and 
again in mob-like confusion, circled about the mast. 
A few, perchance, remained as if they were indifferent 
to our invasion, reminding one of museum specimens 
with their sphynx-like stoicism. 

From Seward to Seldovia we saw a number of whales, 
mostly of the finback variety. A few hump-backs 
were seen at a distance of half a mile. The finback 
whale can be recognized by the shape of head and arch- 
ing of back and by the difference in the shape of the 
back fin, as well as by the high, narrow spout that 
disappears so slowly. The humpback's spout is a low, 
bushy, quickly dissolving one. 

Great flocks of sea birds will follow in the wake of 
whales, feeding on the refuse, herring and little shrimp, 
the food of the whales. These schools of shrimp when 
near the surface give the water a pinkish hue. On one 
of my Alaskan trips I had the rare opportunity of 
witnessing a terrific battle between a humpback whale 
and a "thrasher" whale, or possibly a "killer." I 
watched this battle between this Goliath and the David 
of the deep for an hour, as the steamer slowly moved 
past them. I could see the terrible engine-like plun- 
ges of the whale, in his despairing and frightened efforts 
to shake off his relentless enemy. He would throw his 
huge body completely out of the water, striking fran- 



206 Some Big Game Hunts 

tically with his vast expanse of tail fins at his assailant. 
His antagonist, all the while, striking him from all sides. 
They were still fighting when last seen from a distance 
of five miles or more. 

Shoals of dolphin would occasionally run races with 
the boat. Often one would get directly under the prow 
and act as though playing pilot. 

Porpoises in herds frequently scampered about our 
boat, rolling, bounding out of the water, diving through 
waves and across the swells from the steamer. These 
mammals, like the dolphins, give birth to offspring and 
nurse and care for their young in a very tender and 
motherly way. 

I have often wondered how whales communicate 
with each other while they are scattered over a large 
area of the ocean. If one makes a turn to the east or 
west the whole herd quickly follows him, as though 
some wireless message had passed from one to another. 
They are all following the same school of herring and 
these fish are moving in the same direction. 

As we steamed across Cook's Inlet from Homer to 
Illiamnia, we occasionally got a view of Mount Mc- 
Kinley and the active volcano. Redoubt, the former 
being the bone of contention between Dr. Frederick A. 
Cook and Edward Barrille. The later history is too 
familiar to all to bear repeating. Time and the efforts 
of others may yet disprove the claims of Dr. Cook in 
regard to his ascent of the mountain. 

These frontiersmen of the upper cloud world in their 



Alaska 



207 



vast solitude present an enchantment that is irresis- 
tible on first view, and even now, though many thous- 
and miles away, their grandeur haunts me in my fancies. 
In the presence of these stupendous uplifts, towering 
thousands of feet into space, one is made to feel his 
utter insignificance and littleness. Here one sees 
altitudes in their true value, rising as these vast ranges 
do, from the very spot on which your boat is anchored, 
many thousand feet, within a few miles of the shore 
line. Mount McKinley, the crowning glory, the ice 
and snow-bound capping stone of the dome of our 
continent, with its apex lifted heavenward twenty 
thousand three hundred ninety feet, is only seventy- 




Seldovio. II «'((N from lliix place Dr. F. A. Cook (lit<cuib(irke<l for 
/it.s Ml. McKinley assault. 



208 Some Big Game Hunts 



five miles from tide water. What a view New Yorkers 
would have, if this mountain could be transported to 
within seventy-five miles of Battery Park! 

'Tis one vast world of surface inhospitality, barren 
of inviting warmth and sociability, — one haughty fri- 
gid isolation, beautiful to behold in its stupendous 
magnitude and uninviting except to the most venture- 
some and adventurous. The beauty is not one of 
utility, yet hidden beneath the slowly moving glaciers 
and in the depths of the almost bottomless canons the 
purest of gold, copper and other precious metals are to 
be found in abundance. There is no protecting arm 
thrown around the prospector. Only a chilly hand 
greets him with the cold invitation to come and help 
himself at his peril. There are dangers, in many in- 
stances, not to be repulsed by puny man's bravest 
efforts. 

One hears on these boats many startling stories of 
storms, shipwrecks and narrow escapes from drowning. 
You cannot find a half dozen men together, talking, 
but that within a few minutes, some one will tell about 
some friend of his losing his life when such and such a 
reef was struck, or when the Saratoga ran aground 
near Seldovia, or when the Valencia was lost. These 
harrowing stories naturally make one feel a little tim- 
orous, especially on a steamer with a broken rudder 
chain in a storm and fog near a dangerous reef. 

I was told that there existed a shore line of three 
thousand miles along Alaska, without a buoy, light- 



Alaska 



209 



house or other signals of warning to passing boats. I 
noticed the well kept lawns, the freshly painted and 
homelike appearance of the British Columbia light- 
houses and the substantial appearance of the warning 
buoys, as well as the number of the same. I think that 
Uncle Sam would feel like apologizing to all tourists 
for the scarcity of our lighthouses and for the dingy 
beer keg like appearance of our floating buoys, along 
the inner passage of the Alaskan shore line. 







^^(^5^'^^ 



CHAPTER XX. 

THE STEAMSHIP DORA. COOK'S INLET. KODIAK. 

UYAK. A SAIL ON THE EMILE TO FOX 

ISLAND. 

The Dora: Who has ever been northwest of Juneau 
or even along the inner passage south of Juneau that 
has not heard of the Dora with her many escapades! 
She is a Uttle craft one hundred and twelve feet long, 
rigged with sails and equipped with a little vertical 
engine of about two hundred horse power. She is a 
remarkably seaworthy little boat, but some of her antics 
while under way, over a rough sea in a gale, remind one 
of a contortionist putting on his part of the show. One 
instant she is standing on end, rolling from side to side, 
the next she is headed downward as though she were 
making a high dive to the bottom of the ocean and the 
next she gives a side wobble like a canary bird taking a 
bath. All this time you are moderately busy with 
affairs of a purely personal character and wondering 
where you will drift and how long before you land, the 
kind of a bloater you would make — but why dwell on 
these improbable and disagreeable thoughts. 

Two years ago this same Dora broke her propeller 
and drifted into the Pacific Ocean for eighty-two days, 
landing, finally, at Seattle, two thousand, five hundred 



Alaska 211 

miles out of her course. Her captain told me that it 
made no difference how many summersaults she might 
turn; she always, like a cat, landed on her feet. 

I have never met with a more courteous, accom- 
modating, courageous, efficient and careful set of of- 
ficers and crew than those on this little, faithful steamer, 
plying over 'the hidden and uncharted, dangerous reefs, 
rough swells, tide ripps and treacherous waves of Cook's 
Inlet and the shores of the Kenai Peninsula, Kodiak 
Island, Shellikoff Strait and Aleutian Islands. This 
little boat, only one hundred and twelve feet long, makes 
this hazardous journey and return every thirty days. 
She has a little vertical boiler of about one hundred 
and fifty horse power, burning only about three tons 
of a poor grade steam making coal each twenty-four 
hours. She has a speed rate of about six miles per hour 
under a full head of steam in favorable wind and water, 
with an additional mile and a half when her reserve 
sail power is being used. She has a wooden hull and 
draft of about eleven feet. Her bottom is rather flat, 
which adds to her safety, but increases her powers as a 
high diver and aquatic contortionist. In fact, like a 
good man, " 'Tis hard to keep her down," yet I believe 
that the final plunge is sure to be made at no distant 
day, unless she is completely overhauled in the repair 
docks. My deepest sympathy goes out to her brave 
crew on every voyage she makes and I only sincerely 
trust that my predictions and apprehensions may 
prove, in time, to be untrue and ungrounded. 



212 Some Big Game Hunts 

On a white painted board on the upper deck of the 
Dora, some one signing the initials, "J. E. T." had 
written: 

Here's to the ship of the sea so far, 
That has carried more furs in her hold. 
Than the price of Alaska, paid to the Czar, 
In ducats of silver and gold. 

Here's to the ship of the northern sea. 
That has covered herself with glory. 
Whose name brings joy where'er she be— 
The name of the good ship, Dora. 

We steamed across Cook's Inlet during the day, 
leaving Afognak Island to our right with Skellikoff 
Strait to the west of the island, then through Marmot 
Strait to Kodiak at 5 P. M. During the day we passed 
many whales and flocks of many hundred thousand 
whale birds feeding on whale refuse and crippled her- 
ring, injured by the whales' jaws. 

Mr. Goss, the general manager of the Alaskan Coast 
Company, took us through the old Russian Bay ware- 
house. He showed us many bear skins, some of which 
were monsters. He has them on hand, but has no way 
of disposing of them, as the law prohibits the purchase 
or sale of the brown bear skins of Alaska. 

On our out trip on the Dora, going from Seward to 
Uyak, we had favorable weather and much of our time 
was spent on the little deck. There were on board a 
number of the owners of salmon canning establish- 



Alaska 



213 



merits. Many of them were accompanied by their 
wives. They were a jolly lot, going into some isolated 
bay of Behring Sea to spend the summer with their 
husbands at the canneries. 

We left Kodiak at 6 P. M. and arrived at Uyak, 
ninety miles west, on the 7th of May. It had been 
just twenty days from the time I left Kansas City till 
my arrival at Uyak, where we were met by Alf, the 
guide. 

As the Dora pulled away from the wharf and turned 
her nose to the west, my new made friends crowded to 
the rail and bade me goodby, with a good, round cheer. 

I really felt that I wanted to continue with them to 
the westward. What a charm the word "west" has 
to those seeking novelty and adventure of a pioneer 




As the Dora left Uyak my new friends bade me (jood bye. 



214 Some Big Game Hunts 

character. The eccentric recluse, Thoreau, was indeed 
a true lover of outdoor life and all that implies. He 
ever had a longing to go west. On one occasion, while 
in this mood, he wrote: "The sun is the original pioneer 
whom to follow. Every sunset inspires me with a 
desire to go to a west as distant and as far as the sun 
goes." Who has not, deep within himself, had this 
same desire? Our greatest tonic is to be found in the 
woods and mountains, and he who looks for this pana- 
cea, diligently, will find his health and vigor returning 
with the first dose. 

"Time is but the stream I go fishing in." 

"Idleness is often the most attractive and productive 
industry." 

Two of our new made hunter acquaintances, D/. 
Anderson and Mr. Williams, of Colorado, were still on 
board going west to hunt on Unamak Island. 

Uyak is located at the base of a round top mountain 
foothill, jutting into Uyak Bay, just where it leaves 
Skellikoff Strait. At this place one hundred thousand 
cases of salmon are canned each year. Here we took 
leave of the Dora. 

Alf met us at the wharf with his boat, the "Emile." 
We soon transferred our supplies to his boat. At the 
kind invitation of Mr. Davison, we took dinner with 
him and his good wife in their comfortable home near 
the salmon cannery. Mr. Davison has a beautiful 
Jersey cow and a few sheep. He keeps his sheep and 
lambs under sheds to keep the eagles from killing the 



Alaska 215 

lambs. He does not consider sheep raising a profit- 
able pursuit on Kodiak Island. 

The little "Emile" was rigged for three sails and was 
a good sailor. We towed a small dory on all our sailing 
trips, to be used at low tide and at other times when we 
wanted to row across the bay or hunt the hair seals. 
A five hours' sail brought us to Fox Island, Alf's home. 

To most people, the solitude on Alf's little St. Helena 
during the long, dreary, cold Alaskan winter nights 
would be nerve racking in the extreme, but not so with 
Alf. With the blood coursing through his veins like 
the slow current of a canal, with his lymphatic temper- 
ament, little does he let sentiment creep into his make- 
up. His pipes, foxes and traps are company to him. 
Little does he worry about solitude or seclusion. 

Alf had as an assistant, "Moses," a half breed Aleut 
boy. "Mose" was a good worker, when in the notion 
and at meal time, and he usually felt well. He was 
good with the oars and had much endurance while 
climbing mountains. 

If there is anything the world in general and the 
Aleuts in particular have against the memory of Stephen 
GotlofT, it is the fact that, in 1763, this explorer dis- 
covered Kodiak — at that time called Keniag — Island. 
The natives of the island were formerly called Keniag- 
muts, but they are now called Aleuts. The island is 
one mass of saw-toothed, snow-capped mountains, with 
precipitous sides, with narrow, moss covered, boggy 
valleys, unfit for cultivation, except in very limited 



216 



Some Big Game Hunts 



localities, and the range of vegetables it is possible to 
grow here is not very extensive. 

It would have been far better to have let the natives 
keep possession of the island, in company with the 
brown bear, the foxes, eagles and land otters. The 
native, today, — as of old — is, with a few exceptions, 
filthy, uneducated and ugly in disposition, holding to 
his old customs, when possible. Contaminated by 
the diseases of the white race, he is fast dying off. His 
food supply will soon be gone, at the rate the salmon 
is being canned at many points on the island. The 
game will surely be exterminated. Agriculture, as a 
profitable pursuit is out of the question. There is no 
lumber, coal or iron to invite mining or manufacturing. 




Uijak. Four million cans of sahnon are shipped from this place 
each year. 



Alaska 217 

In fact, when the many bays which are the gateways 
to the salmon hatching grounds have been seined and 
trapped of their migrating myriads of fishes so that 
even fish canning will cease to be profitable, then the 
white man with his Chinese and Burmese laborers will 
abandon this island and leave the poor native to his 
fate, like a stray steer, trying to gain a sustenance on 
the devastated hills, after ten thousand sheep have been 
driven across the ground. 

The Emile was the only object in Alf's possession 
concerning which he ever used any expressions of 
appreciation as to its worth or value. 

From Uyak, on the bay of the same name, we set 
sail on the Emile for Alf's island, seventeen miles up 
the bay. A good breeze was in our favor and this 
distance was soon made. Alf's island is a small body 
of sand spits and remnants of a mountain peak, about 
forty acres in extent, situated in Uyak Bay, the main 
land of Kodiak Island being about two miles away on 
either side. As we approached the island we were 
saluted by the barking and scolding of many blue foxes, 
standing on little knolls, or bobbing about from place 
to place, with the fur on their graceful little backs and 
plume-like tails standing on ends. Alf raises blue foxes 
for a livelihood. He has a comfortable little three 
roomed cottage, a chicken house and a storm cellar. 
The solitude of this isolation must be very depressing 
during the long Alaskan, bleak, cold nights and short 
hours of sunlight. 



CHAPTER XXL 

OFF FOR A BEAR HUNT. OUR FIRST BEAR. HAIR 
SEALS. SOME EXCITING SAILING EXPERIENCE. 

At 7 A. M., May 8th, we left Alf s place in the Emile 
with a good wind blowing down the bay. Snow soon 
began to fall and then rain at sea level, but it continued 
snowing up in the mountains. The snow line is down 
to within a thousand feet of the bay at this time of the 
year. 

I saw many wild geese today. They are very small 
and gray in color with a white ring around their necks. 
The gulls are beginning to nest in vast numbers on small 
islands near Alf's island. I saw several mallard ducks 
feeding near their nesting place on Alf's island. They 
are very tame, permitting one to approach within a 
few paces of them. They lay about twelve eggs, be- 
ginning about May 1st. Occasionally, they remain in 
this locality all the year. 

We continued to sail in the storm, going past Amock 
Island in Uyak Bay. This island is about seven miles 
long and two miles wide. Five miles farther down the 
bay we turned east into Sihar Bay and sailed up this 
bay for ten miles to our first camp. On our way up 
this bay the wind left us and we were compelled to re- 
sort to the oars, a slow way of navigating against the 



Alaska 219 

receding tide. For hours we made practically no pro- 
gress. We saw quite a number of hair seals today. 
Eagles along this bay are very numerous. Their snow 
white heads could be seen at a long distance, resembling 
balls of snow or full blown century plants in the leafless 
trees or barren rocks. 

We anchored the Emile and erected our sleeping tent. 
We used the cabin of the Emile as a kitchen and dining 
room while at this camp. On the afternoon of our 
first day in camp, we were in front of the tent spying 
the surrounding mountains and discussing the pro- 
bability of the bears having left their hibernating dens, 
when we saw a full grown Kodiak brown bear on top 
of a long, low mountain about three miles away, stand- 
ing out in bold relief against the pure white back-ground, 
like a beautifully carved medallion. He looked to be 
only a mile away. A Kodiak brown bear discovered 
within a few hours after making our first camp! He 
was seemingly in no particular hurry. As he leisurely 
moved along, we could see how his vast size and weight 
would break through the snow crust, leaving a trail 
behind like that made by a huge log which had been 
dragged through the snow. He appeared to be looking 
for something to eat. 

Our spirits were at the top notch, as the prospect 
for bear were flattering. It was too late to go after 
him at once. We retired with bear on the brain so 
heavily that our slumbers were disturbed by the 



220 



Some Big Game Hunts 



thoughts of the anticipated exciting bear killing of the 
next day. 

Early the next morning (Do you know that "early" 
in Alaska, in May, begins about 2 A. M.?) we set out 
in the direction in which the bear had disappeared over 
the ridge, hoping to find him in his den. We rowed 
part of the way then climbed up the side of the moun- 
tain through snow two to five feet deep in the under- 
brush of alders, willows and low, scrubby cottonwoods. 

After a two hours' climb, we found his track and fol- 
lowed his trail for two miles. As he was traveling in 
a direction to take us out of the country into another 
bay, we decided to abandon his trail. 

On the return trip we saw fresh signs of bear and 
Alvord decided to hunt the mountain side. He soon 
ran on to a medium-sized bear. He was leisurely feed- 







Kodiak brown bears. {Photo, by J. E. T.) 



Alaska 221 

ing and occasionally he would stop to scratch his sides 
against some projecting rock or scrubby tree. When 
within one hundred yards of him, a well directed shoul- 
der shot brought him down, but he managed to regain 
his feet and run into a patch of alders, where he fell 
dead, having shot through the large blood vessel leading 
from the heart. He had bled to death within the pleu- 
ral cavity. None of the blood escaped from the skin 
wound . 

We took actual measurements of this bear, and like 
the measurements of others secured on this trip, they 
are far less than those generally given by some hunters 
of these bears: Hind foot, eleven inches long; hind 
foot six inches across; front paw seven inches long; 
front foot six inches across; from nose to root of tail 
over back, seven feet; about arm, twenty-two inches; 
about forearm, eleven inches; thigh, twenty-seven 
inches; leg, sixteen inches; between eyes five and one- 
half inches ; nose to eye eight inches ; nose to ear seven- 
teen inches; about root of nose seventeen inches ; about 
head at eyes twenty-five inches; about head three inches 
back of eyes, twenty-nine inches; about butt of ears, 
thirty inches; between ears, nine inches; estimated 
weight, four hundred pounds. 

This bear was very thin. In his stomach he had a 
few last year's berries and dried leaves that he had 
recently eaten. 

On May 16th, the four of us climbed a high moun- 
tain north of the camp to visit a bear den of which Alf 



222 Some Big Game Hunts 

knew the location. The bears were not at home. In 
fact, they had not used the cave during the winter. We 
later learned different. 

This climb was a record breaker. In many places 
the snow was ten feet deep and in some a hundred. 
Our progress was very slow, as we could not use snow 
shoes at all. We walked on top of the snow bent under- 
brush as much as possible, but even then we were 
constantly breaking through the snow up to our arm- 
pits. In other places the snow was only two feet deep, 
with a thin crust on top, which made the walking very 
tiresome, as at each step the foot had to be raised to 
the top of the snow, only to let you down with a chug, 
just about the time you thought the crust would hold 
you for one more step. 

We floundered about this way for hours, finally 
reaching what we thought to be the den, only to find 
it unoccupied. Time and again we waded icy cold 
glacial streams. In one place we walked on a snow 
covered glacier for a mile at an angle of about twenty 
degrees, each moment expecting to take a slide to the 
bottom, as we had no ice picks or ropes. We saw no 
fresh bear signs that day and only a few old tracks. 

Mr. Hillis and Mr. King, who were hunting near us, 
later visited and found the bear den we looked for, but 
failed to locate. We had plowed through the snow 
neck deep right in front of the den, but owing to the 
snow having been disturbed by snow slides, we failed 
to find the entrance of the cave, or any evidence of the 



Alaska 



223 



bears' presence in the way of vent or breathing holes 
in the snow, or discolored snow where the bears had 
come out and lain in the snow. Little did we think of 
the fun that was so near us. King and Hillis visited 
this den three weeks later and found four large bears 
occupying it. The bears had just come out the day 
they found the den. All four of the bears were killed. 
One of them fell back into the den and had to be pulled 
out with ropes. 

Had our party broken through the snow and fallen 
into that nest of bears, the historical animal training 
feat of Daniel in the lions' den would have paled into 
insignificance as compared to the quick work of our 
quartette. 

Mr. Hillis and Mr. King failed to catch the Dora on 




The "Emile" in Sahar Bay. 



224 Some Big Game Hunts 

her return and final trip, hence, they were marooned 
on the island. One month later they hailed a passing 
boat and chartered it to take them across Cook's Inlet 
to Port Graham. They were six days going across. 
The usual time was six hours. They encountered a 
terrible storm and came near being shipwrecked. They 
secured five bears on this trip. 

Judge Williams and Dr. Anderson, who traveled 
with us on the Dora, hunted on Unamak Island, farther 
west. They, too, were marooned, on account of the 
disaster to the Dora, and did not return until the first 
of August, having hailed a passing boat that took them 
up into Bering Sea before it returned them to Seattle. 
They were living on tea and hard tack when rescued. 
They had lost their boat and had just discovered some 
Aleut hunters, whom they had hired with their badar- 
kas to make an effort to get some provisions or a boat 
from along the coast. While getting ready to start, 
they saw the smoke of a passing steamer, and hailing 
it, were taken on board. 

The double-tracked, wide guaged bear trails about 
which so many have written, I have thus far failed to 
find. The trails seen on this trip were just such as one 
would expect a few bears of any species to make if they 
were not molested for years, on their way to the sal- 
mon streams, where they procure their food during the 
salmon running season. These streams are practically 
Ashless except during the salmon runs of June, July 
and August. 



Alaska 225 

One must be prepared for almost any kind of weather 
here on short notice One moment it is raining, the 
next the sun is shining and in an instant it is snowing, 
accompanied by a terrific, biting cold wind, the Alaska 
"wooley." Be prepared for all of these, as you are sure 
to meet them daily and are almost equally certain not 
to have the things you want when they are needed most. 

On several occasions while the tide was in near our 
camp, we rowed out to some small projecting rocks 
that are favorite fishing gi'ounds for the hair seals. 
The graceful — in the water — little fellows swim about 
the rocks occasionally sticking their bulldog-like stumpy 
noses above the water to get a breath and to see what 
is going on above water. 

We succeeded in getting two nice hair seal skins on 
this trip. I think this is about the only thing, dead or 
alive, of which the Aleuts are not fond. They eat 
them only when very hungry or when food is scarce. 

After remaining in this camp a few days, we decided 
to move into that portion of the bay south of Alf's 
house. As we turned into Uyak Bay a regular hur- 
ricane was blowing, carrying the Emile up the bay at 
a rate equal to an ice yacht. The little boat fairly flew 
before the gale, jumping from one wave to trough and 
hurdling the next. Many glacial deposited rocks and 
hidden reefs were narrowly missed, as we sped up the 
bay against an outgoing tide. 

It was getting too serious for even Alf , so he decided 
to turn into a little cove. In doing so, the bottom of 




Viryiyiia waterfall. 



Alaska 227 

the boat grounded on a narrow sand spit and came 
near capsizing, but the next wave hfted the boat into 
deep and quiet water where we anchored until the 
storm subsided. Some people may be fascinated — 
mesmerized — so to speak, with the thrills of such a 
journey in a sail boat in a storm over unknown dan- 
gers, but to be frank, I do not, never did and I do not 
believe I could ever acquire the appetite. I prefer to 
take my chances on the hurricane deck of a bucking 
cayuse on a mountain side. Ones relatives can find 
his remains much more easily in the latter instance, 
besides his friends will admire the work of the embal- 
mers more, should a calamity befall him. 

May 15th, storming this morning, as usual. We 
go to bed by daylight at eleven o'clock P. M. and find 
on awakening at two A. M. that it is light enough to 
read a newspaper. One has much difficulty in telling 
when to go to bed and when to get up. 

This morning the Emile is standing on a glacial boul- 
der out in the bay. The tide in receding drifted the 
boat several yards in spite of her anchor. On examin- 
ing the boat it was discovered that she had sprung a 
leak from pounding on the rock, but was soon cawked 
and the trouble stopped. 

While hunting at the head of Uyak Bay, I saw one of 
the most graceful and harmonic waterfalls I have ever 
seen. From a height of three hundred feet this del- 
icate band of water like a skein of the finest woven 
threads of silver, seemed to be hanging. The water 



228 Some Big Game Hunts 

seemed so uniformly spread out and so little ruffled by 
its plunge that one could almost imagine that it was 
fastened at each end. I named this fall, "Virginia." 

The tide recedes from the head of this bay fully five 
miles, leaving a fiat, stinking muck, very unattractive, 
reminding one of the wreckage often seen along the 
shore of some of our large inland water courses after a 
flood. The little Emile was left high but not dry, as 
she settled in the mud where she wallowed all the time 
from the high winds, until the tide returned and floated 
her again. 

The snow is melting some about the camp, but I can 
see the dry snow being tossed by the wind on the tops 
of the mountains like a column of white smoke. I saw 
many mosquitoes today. Some of them were actually 
perched on a snow bank just back of the barabara. 
These mosquitoes are about three times as large as our 
southern pest. I understand that the later crop of 
Alaskan mosquitoes is much smaller in size. 

I have hunted grizzlies in British Columbia, Color- 
ado and Wyoming and I found them with the same 
omnivorous appetites in each location. They must eat 
to live. If no fish is procurable they eat and thrive on 
roots, grasses and berries. 

The Alaskan brown bear in season finds an abundance 
of salmon, and becomes very fat from eating them. He 
grows extra large because of his abundant food supply, 
and his fur is heavier and lighter in color because the 
winters are longer. These bears, when hungry, will 



Alaska 229 

invade the barabaras and badarkas of the natives and 
steal the Aleuts' food during their absence. On one 
occasion, two Aleuts had their badarka filled with fish. 
They left it on the shore while they were huntiug back 
in the mountains. On their return, they found that a 
mother bear with her two cubs had torn their skin boat 
to pieces and had devoured their fish. The bears es- 
caped, and Alf, our guide, had to take his dory and con- 
vey the Indians across the bay to their camp and to 
their other boats. 

Alvord and Mose took the dory and put out across 
the bay, while Alf and I climbed the mountain to the 
west of Uyak River to examine and photograph a 
waterfall. This fall I named "Virginia." We found 
no fresh traces of bear, but saw many old trails of the 
year before. 

One peak at the head of the valley, that stood out 
prominently, I named Mount Hodges, in honor of my 
unfortunate hunting companion whom I had to leave 
in Seattle, owing to his severe illness. 

While on this trip to visit the waterfall Alf showed 
me where he had killed two large bears and wounded a 
third. The three bears were together and very close 
to him when he first saw them. The wounded bear 
charged him and as he had used his last cartridge he 
took to a tree, but the tree was not strong enough to 
bear his weight with his head up, so he swung his feet up 
and head down and began holloing and striking at the 
bear with his knife. All the while the bear was trying 



230 



Some Big Game Hunts 



to get at him. Suddenly it became frightened and fled 
running square into a tree as he retreated. Alf skinned 
the dead bears and took the skins to his camp. This 
required three trips. 

These bears, during the salmon running season will 
wade into the small streams and sit down in the water, 
facing down stream. The salmon running against the 
current run into this improvised trap and are slapped, 



..lb. *i ,>r% ' 




Kodiak brown bear. 



Alaska 231 

so to speak, on to the sandy beach and the choice mor- 
sels (the belly) are devoured. The hump back salmon 
are the most prevalent in the streams emptying into 
Uyak Bay, July and August being the running season. 
These bears hibernate during the long winters, but are 
easily awakened at any time and are very lively when 
aroused, as many can testify who have run into them 
in their dens during this time. These bears are rather 
sociable, except during the rutting seasons. Several 
males, females and cubs have been known to hibernate 
together. The mother will often have cubs three 
years of age, with her, and at the same time, a cub only 
a few months old. 

These bears, like all bears all over the world, are 
cowardly and will run away from man unless wounded 
and cornered, hard pressed or in defence of their young. 
They are powerful beasts. I know of no flesh eating 
animal possessing even half the strength of these big, 
brown bears. 

One specimen we obtained on this trip had an arm 
measurement of thirty-two inches of bone and muscle, 
but not an ounce of fat. A number of Aleuts have been 
killed by these bears near where I hunted, but in every 
instance the bear had been wounded and followed into 
the brush, their method of assault being to maul and 
chew the victim. The terrible cutting powers of their 
five-inch claws backed up by their prodigious strength 
is all that is necessary to tear and kill any man with a 
single stroke. 



CHAPTEE XXIL 

METBODB OF HTKTING KODIAK BEAES. A BEAE STOKT- 

WEOLi camped at the bead of Uyak Bar. I witnefised 

ihe nad rusht* of a number of avalanche, and later 
saw tiie tKribk effects jmxiueed on the mountain sides, 
vaDevE and the trees near their wake. The irresist- 
ible loree gathered by th€se great masses of snow, iee 
and roek. as thev rush down the mountain sides can 
hardhr be realized unless one actually witnesses the 
lightening-like deseect of one of these a^'alancheK. 
Trees are uprooted or twisted to pieces as if they were 
toothpicks, whole sid€* of mountains of loose rock are 
hurled to the bottoms of ra-vines or perehanee across 
wide expanses of level ground at the base of the moun- 
tain. Such a vacuum is created on either side of the 
trail of these avaianehet that large trees are broken 
down and sucked into its wake. The noise is one of a 
great battle with the roar of artiller}- and the hissing 
of fijing shells. 

The vast ice fields of Alasi^ cov«- twenty thousand 
square miles, being ccmfmed mostly to the coastal 
range of mountains. It is b&re that the warm, moist 
air from ti» JiaLpan current meets with conditions fav- 
orable to the formation of snow and rain both (rf which 
are necessar>' Zfj the existence of giaciation. 



Alaska 



233 



These, pinnacled, sculptured, crevassed and majes- 
tic glaciers, along the vast shore line are being moved 
slowly by Nature's Titanic forces. In some instances 
they present an uninterrupted ice cliff three hundred 
feet high, with seven miles of unbroken sea front. 

Melaspina glacier may be compared to a frozen sea 
with the mountain peak projections from its surface, 
as ice-bound islands. 

The ends of these vast frozen rivers, projecting into 
the sea, present a beauty in colors indescribable. Here 
you have the variegated fire flashes of an Hungarian 
opal, the multi-colored iridescent sapphire, the sparkle 
of the diamond and the beautiful effect of a delicate 
mosaic wall, crowned by sculptured and chiseled pin- 
nacles with majestic cathedral spires. Add to this 
picture an armada of icebergs drifting in military order 




The vad ice fieldf< of Alaska cover twenty thoyf^ond square miles. 



234 Some Big Game Hunts 

with the receding tide, and the scene, once witnessed, 
can never be forgotten. 

A wounded bear had killed a native near where we 
hunted the year before. The Aleut had wounded the 
bear, the animal taking refuge behind a large detached 
rock. The native crawled up on top of the rock to spy 
for the bear. As he peeped over the rock, the great 
bear rose up with one powerful sweep of his strong arm 
and long, sharp claws tore the native from buttock to 
head, killing him almost instantly. A brother of the 
Aleut killed the bear on the spot. 

The Aleut method of hunting consists in paddling 
noiselessly along the shore in their badarkas, watching 
the mountain sides for bear. When a bear is discov- 
ered, they land and if the bear is not too far away, go 
after him. This is a lazy way to hunt, and many a 
bear escapes with his pelt unpunctured. The native 
will not climb very high for a bear, unless he is driven 
to it by extreme hunger. The Aleuts are poor hunters. 

These bear skins are not what a pelage connoisseur 
would call handsome, yet there is a beauty about them 
from the point of size. The color varies from an almost 
pure black with silver-tipped hairs to a dirty dingy 
brown. Unless the trophy is secured soon after the 
bear leaves his winter quarters, the skin is liable to 
have large bare spots, as these bears begin to rub the 
fur off as soon as the weather gets too warm for them. 
Their summer coats are ugly and the skins are not 
worth bringing home. 



Alaska 



235 




These badarkas are as graceful in the water as a duck. 



The hunting should be early in May and June. Some 
of the specimens will show the marks of fighting during 
the winter, while housed up with other bears. In some 
instances, as many as six or eight bears will hibernate 
in the same cave. Four were found by King and Hil- 
lis in the den that we failed to locate. That these 
bears are cannibals, is beyond question, as in several 
instances the battle ground has been converted into 
a banquet hall by the victor. 

These bear trails come down from the higher slope 
of the mountains, where the bears spend the winters 
and sleep during the hot summer days as the pestilen- 
tial flies and mosquitoes are not so plentiful on the 
higher places. The bears find the shadow places in the 
streams to fish. Even in the early spring after a severe 



236 Some Big Game Hunts 

winter of snow and persistent spring rains, the river 
banks are literally strewn with the bones of the salmon 
killed by these bears the year before. 

You cannot hunt these animals successfully with 
dogs. They are very much afraid of dogs. A ten 
pound rat terrier can stampede a half dozen of these 
bears and throw them into such a panic that they will 
not stop running as long as they can hear or smell their 
pursuer. The hunter cannot follow them fast enough 
on foot and the use of horses is impossible, hence, if your 
dog once gets the bears on the run, you will never see 
them again unless, perchance, you get a glimpse of 
them as they disappear over some distant range of the 
mountains. They refuse to "bay," unlike the black 
bear, and like the grizzly cannot climb a tree. 

-A true sportsman who is seeking a trophy of one of 
these bears would not think of using a trap or poisoning 
them. Only the market hunter or the hungry Aleuts 
would resort to such an unsportsmanlike procedure. 

On all my hunting trips, I have endeavored to have 
the best of provisions consistent with the facilities for 
transporting the same. One must of necessity undergo 
more or less hardships in the way of exposure to bad 
weather and negotiating difficult and dangerous trails, 
hence good food and comfortable sleeping bags are in- 
dispensable to a successful and safe hunt. In Alaska, 
waterproof gum boots with low tops serve your purpose 
best in the way of foot wear. They should be a size 
too large, permitting an extra pair of woolen socks to 



Alaska 237 

be worn. A light gum coat and waterproof hat will be 
a great comfort to you during the protracted rains on 
Kodiak Island. Canned goods are too heavy and con- 
tain too much water to be carried on these trips, yet 
a canned delicacy will serve a good purpose on special 
occasions. 

Camping and hunting on Kodiak Island are not one 
round of pleasure and ease on a bed of roses. The 
ground is covered with moss two feet or more deep, 
saturated with ice water and super-charged with the 
most villianous, voracious and industrious mosquitoes 
with which I have ever come in contact. The brutes 
— they are i-eally carnivorous animals — in Alaska are 
so bloodthirsty that they will tackle a red hot beef 
steak. They are so thick that you can see the hole 
where you throw a stick into the swarm. 

The mosquitoes in this country will make the most 
sedate man active and combative. A preacher or a 
saint would take some chances on losing in order to 
give vent to his feelings in cuss words. I do not see 
why they are there in such myriads. Very few ever 
have a chance to taste human or other blood, yet they 
are as anxious to get at you as if they had been used to 
it and had been on a long fast. I believe that they 
bite man for the same reason that a bee stings him, 
because they are mad. 

The bears on Kodiak Island end their long sleep about 
the 10th of May, but the exact time depends on the 
duration and severity of the winters and the snow fall. 



238 So7ne Big Game Hunts 

If you go bear hunting, you must be prepared to await 
the bear's pleasure in the matter of awakening. To 
hear some talk, you would imagine that bears have a 
regular schedule on which to run, and that as spring 
approaches they count the days to come out. 

One goes hunting, usually, because he desires a change 
from his daily routine of business and office affairs. If 
such are his desires, he will get what he is seeking if he 
hunts on Kodiak Island. New experiences and sur- 
prises await him on every side. He will be soaked in 
ice water most of the time. Food will be cooked by a 
dirty Aleut and served in the most unpalatable manner, 
he will be thrown down on rough, stony hillsides, jab- 
bed by thorns, slapped in the face in the most uncere- 
monious manner by the underbrush. His legs are 
twisted by stepping into uneven and bottomless holes, 
his hands are lacerated and abraded by jagged rocks 
in unexpected places, he gets out of his sleeping bag 
at three A, M., tired from the pounding of the day be- 
fore, pulls on half frozen clothing, washes in ice water 
at the brook, in the rain, brushes his hair with his hands 
and eats what is put before him. "0, you idiot!" he 
says to himself, "when I get home, I will stay there." 
but he won't. He will go again next year. 

Each one took his turn at cooking, which is custom- 
ary while on a hunting trip. I tried my hand at cook- 
ing beans. This effort was quite successful, but my 
corn cakes were not much appreciated by anyone but 



Alaska 239 

myself. Some people have such unappreciative taste 
and such illiterate appetites! 

High power field glasses are indispensable in hunting 
the Kodiak brown bear. An eight power binocular 
stero is about the highest power that can be held steady 
enough to see to the best advantage. You get in a 
good position to command a broad scope of the country 
over which the bears are known to range at the time of 
the year in which you are hunting. If in the early 
spring, the bears are found ranging from high in the 
mountains in the snow to the edge of the willows and 
alders. If during the salmon run in June, they are 
along the water courses. The skins, during the latter 
part of June, are in poor condition, owing to the bare 
places where the fur has been rubbed off. Many of 
the bears are discovered from the camp by "spying." 

The largest bear secured by us on this trip was dis- 
covered during the day from our camp, lying high up 
on the mountain side in a broad expanse of snow. A 
mere black speck was noticed at least five miles away. 
Frequently, during the day's spying, this little black 
spot was noticed and commented on, but decided to be 
a rock projecting from the snow. About seven o'clock, 
the glasses were focused on this inky spot on the broad 
sheet of pure white. Much to our surprise, it got up and 
began to walk deliberately down the mountain side in 
the snow, toward the feeding grounds. By the time 
we rowed across the bay, climbed the mountains, met 



240 



Some Big Game Hunts 



and killed him it was ten o'clock, yet light enough to 
shoot accurately. 

You search the mountain sides and the ravines for 
hours with your glasses from some vantage point, until 
every rock, bunch of grass, hole in the ground or other 
objects are as familiar to you as the objects in your 
own front door yard. You notice every snow slide, 
break or rough place in the vast mountains of snow, 
observe whether the breaks in the snow run straight or 
in a zig-zag, tortuous course. The latter would indi- 
cate bear trails, as there are no other animals on Kodiak 
Island to make a trail. You can notice a good plain 




Aleuts. The man in the center is a chief of the Aleutian Indians. 



Alaska 241 

bear trail in soft snow on a sunny day, several miles, 
with the glasses used on this trip. 

These bears, like all bears in cold climates, hibernate. 
When they come from their dens in the spring they are 
very thin. The largest one killed on this hunt weighed 
five hundred and seventeen pounds. He was very 
thin, but was pronounced by the guide to be a very 
large specimen. His measurements and weight were 
taken just where he fell and were very carefully made. 
After the skin was removed, he was cut into pieces by 
some Aleuts to whom we gave the carcass. 

The following is the weight of each part as cut up by 
the Aleuts: Head twenty-six pounds; right ham fifty- 
five pounds; left ham fifty-three pounds ; right shoulder 
fifty-two pounds ; leftshoulder fifty pounds; neck forty- 
five pounds; thorax sixty pounds; pelvis sixty-five 
pounds; intestines, liver and lungs fifty-five pounds; 
skin sixty pounds. This bear, if fat, would have 
weighed at least one thousand pounds. 

When one of these bears is discovered from a distance, 
an experienced hunter is almost sure to get a shot at 
him. The animals have poor eye sight but a remark- 
able olfactory sense. It requires much experience and 
much tact to approach within gun shot, as the direction 
of the wind must be observed very carefully. Any 
little knoll, jutting rock or ravine may deflect the wind 
and carry your scent to the bear. When once scented, 
and the bear takes to his heels, you may just as well 
look for another bear, as that one will not stop running 



242 Some Big Game Hunts 

until he has put many miles between hunter and hunted. 

One day we watched a bear run on the side of a moun- 
tain for several miles. One moment he would run 
across an open grassy spot, enter a clump of alders, 
then disappear into a deep ravine, only to reappear on 
the opposite side, all the time keeping at about the 
same level on the mountain side. He was running 
"up wind." He had scented some Aleut hunters near 
the beach. Occasionally he would stop just an instant 
and look around, but quickly resume his flight. 

You must travel through rapidly flowing glacial 
streams, over treacherous marshes, moss covered and 
soggy trundas and be tossed and thrown about by 
treacherous snow slides. Midday is hot and sultry, but as 
soon as the sun disappears behind the snow-clad peaks, 
the whole country is quickly converted into a cold 
storage plant, and you are, with your perspiration and 
wet clothing, quickly chilled through. 

A LARGE BROWN BEAR. 

You will hear many exaggerated as well as trile 
stories about these great beasts: How some one saw 
and measured the tracks of a monster bear that meas- 
ured twenty-three inches; or how a giant bear had 
been his own boss in a given locality for a number of 
years, all the natives being afraid to trap or hunt in his 
range. 

One of the largest bear stories was told me by an old 
trapper near Seward. I was examining and admiring 



Alaska 243 

an enormous spread of bear skin that nearly covered 
the whole of his barabara floor. He said, "I hope you 
don't call that a big skin. I will tell you about how 
I procured what you see and think is such a big skin: 

There had been seen in the neighborhood of my shack 
on Bear Creek a bear so large that every trapper, hun- 
ter and Indian was afraid to tackle him. In fact, most 
of the natives had moved away from his range, horror- 
stricken. No one was willing to take a try-out with 
him. I knew bears were very fond of cornmeal mush, 
so I decided to bait him with mush and dynamite. I 
cooked up a sluice box full and put it along side of his 
trail near the river where he came daily to catch salmon. 
I built a blind up in a rocky ledge and fastened a rope 
ladder to it so I could pull it up after me. 

I took my largest rifle, one afternoon, and hid my- 
self in my blind to await the arrival of the bear. I had 
been there several hours and was growing very im- 
patient and restless and had almost made up my mind 
that the bear was not coming, when to my surprise I 
saw what looked to be a tremendous prehistoric animal 
coming leisurely down the trail. When near the sluice 
box of mush, he paused, and I could see that the bear 
was going to help himself to the omelet of mush and 
dynamite. I never saw such quantities of provender 
stored away by any beast. He ate the whole of it and 
turned the sluice box over several times, looking for 
more. You know his sides protruded like those of a 
snake that had swallowed a toad. He was really a 



244 Some Big Game Hunts 

comical sight and I imagined he regretted having eaten 
so much on an empty stomach. Well, I decided to try 
one shot at him, anyway, as I knew he could not climb 
to me. I took a steady and careful aim at his dynamite 
rotundity and I must have struck center, as I have 
never before or since seen such an explosion. It looked 
like blowing up the side of a mountain of cornmeal 
mush. I dropped my ladder and started to the cabin. 
I saw a shadow cross my path as though some dense 
cloud had drifted before the sun; then I heard a whist, 
as though some great bird of prey had swooped down 
upon me, and then I saw something light on a pine tree 
near me. I hurried to it, and what do you suppose it 
was? Why, it was a little piece of that bear's skin. 
That is the piece you see on the floor. Only a little 
patch of the skin of that bear was ever found. Won't 
you have another cup of coffee and some more mush?" 
I took the coffee. "All you have to say to the mala- 
mutes (Alaska dogs) is, 'Mush!' and they will get a 
move on themselves in a hurry." 



CHAPTER XXIII. 



FOX FARMING. 



The rearing and domesticating of our fast disappear- 
ing wild animals is at this time receiving marked at- 
tention, not only from our government, but from many- 
individuals. The problem is one fraught with many 
difficulties, the proper solution of which is of vital int- 
erest to the whole people, from many standpoints. 

The successful rearing of a wild and timid animal in 
sufficient numbers for profitable commercial or other 
purposes requires much thoughtful study and the ex- 
penditure of much time and labor. It is in its infancy 
at the present, but a great future may safely be pre- 
dicted for the enterprise from a commercial standpoint. 

It takes patience, time, experience and a thorough 
knowledge of the natural traits and requirements of 
these animals in the untamed state, to rear them suc- 
cessfully in captivity. They must have that environ- 
ment which is best suited to their maintenance and 
propagation. These problems are being quite success- 
fully solved, as far as concerns the blue fox, two thous- 
and miles out in the Pacific Ocean, by a Russian called 
Alf. 

While hunting on Kodiak Island, in April and May, 
1909, for the large Kodiak brown bear, I employed Alf 



246 



Some Big Game Hunts 




Alf's St. Helena. 



as my guide. During this time I took occasion to learn 
all that was possible from him in regard to the almost 
unique enterprise of rearing blue foxes for the fur mar- 
kets of the world, 

I spent many hours observing the behavior of these 
beautiful, little, graceful foxes in their own homes, and 
the statements made in this article are not in the least 
fanciful or in any way faked utterances, as far as con- 
cerns the foxes on Alf's island. 

The climate of Kodiak Island is especially suited to 
the requirements of this fox, and the food supply of 
salmon is abundant near by in the bay. 

Uyak Bay is a narrow sheet of water cutting Kodiak 
Island almost in half. It is twenty-five miles long and 
from one half mile to six miles in width. Fifteen miles 



Alaska 247 

from Shellikoff Strait there is a small island of about 
forty acres, located a mile from either shore. On this 
island Alf has his fox ranch, or kennels. 

A few years ago the skin of the blue fox, owing to its 
beauty and scarcity, became very valuable, and now 
it is considered one of the most valuable of the fur 
bearing animals. Six years ago Alf secured from the 
United States this small island and began rearing blue 
foxes. 

He started with six pairs of blue foxes, which he pur- 
chased at fifty dollars per pair, on Terenoff Island. 
He was eleven days transporting them on a sail boat to 
his island in Uyak Bay. On the journey one died, and 
during the first few weeks, six more escaped by swim- 
ming across the bay to the mainland of Kodiak Island, 
the distance of a mile. On this journey, while on the 
boat, they refused all food, but drank freely of water 
set before them. 

As soon as they were given their liberty on the island, 
those remaining took kindly to their new quarters and 
would take their food when it was placed where they 
could get it after nightfall. 

On arriving at Alf's island, we were received by a 
number of blue foxes, standing sentinel on various 
little knolls, all the time scolding and bobbing from 
place to place, with the fur on their graceful little backs 
and plume-like tails standing on end. Each male was 
stationed at the entrance to the den of a nursing female 
and her young. 



248 So7ne Big Game Hunts 

Alf has tried to tame a number of these blue foxes. 
When very young they are very playful. They run, 
jump, roll over and scamper about like playful kittens, 
but as soon as they are about four months old, they 
begin to get timid, refuse to eat, stop growing, and un- 
less given their freedom on the island they soon die. 
They will return to their accustomed feeding place 
when set free and thrive on their liberty and the same 
food that they starved on or refused to eat during cap- 
tivity. 

They are very intelligent and hard to trap. On one 
occasion a very large male went into a large box trap 
that was too short for him and the door of the trap fell 
on his tail. The season being wrong to save the pelt^ 
he was turned loose on the island. He did not show 
himself for six months, always stealing his food during 
the night when no one was astir. It took Alf three 
years to devise some scheme to capture him, as he 
would never go near any suspicious looking box or trap- 
appearing device. 

These foxes are often fed in the box that in the future 
is to become their last prison. This destroys any sus- 
picion they might have of the trap and thus removes 
that precaution so characteristic of the fox, be he blue, 
red, black or gray. When the killing season arrives, 
which is about December or January, the food is placed 
in the boxes, as usual, but a trigger is now set and the 
dining room or pantry of the fox now becomes his 
prison and death chamber. It is here that he takes 



Alaska 249 

the last step from the blue fox skin into a large neck- 
piece or hand muff for some society belle. 

After the foxes are captured, they are killed by break- 
ing their necks, which does no damage to the skins or 
fur at the same time kills them instantly. 

The mating season is about the first of March and is 
very similar in all respects to the domestic dog. The 
period of gestation runs fifty-one days. During this 
state the female, assisted by the male, seeks a proper 
place to rear her young, giving preference to a ledge of 
rock that is dry and cool near a water course. The 
number of young in a litter varies from two to eight. 
If disturbed, or the den becomes too damp, the mother 
carries the young foxes in her mouth to a better den. 
Her motherly instinct is very pronounced and she will 
fight to her death, protecting her young. 

This island abounds in bald eagles, and they are the 
young foxes most dangerous enemy. An eagle will sit 
for hours watching a fox den, and woe be to the fox 
that shows his form any distance beyond his front door. 

They grow quite rapidly and are large enough to be 
killed for their pelts by the first of January. In fact, 
the fur is best at that time and the skins command the 
highest price. 

At the end of the first year they have young. The 
young females are much more prolific than the older 
ones. A full grown, very fat, blue fox will weigh from 
twenty-five to thirty pounds. Some have no ears. 



250 



Some Big Game Hunts 



This seems to be a family inherited trait in a few blue 
foxes. 

When the male carries food to the nursing mother, 
he makes a noise at the entrance to the den and she 
comes out and receives the morsel, but he does not dare 
to enter the den. The mother nurses the young about 
five months, but gives them food brought to her during 
that time. These foxes are great thieves, and will 
carry off articles that are of no use to them. They are 
not long sleepers, and are easily awakened and prowl 




The blue fox's worst enemy. {Photo, by J. E. T.) 



Alaska 251 

about both day and night. Red foxes arp stronger, 
better fighters and kill the blue fox. 

A remarkable sight may be observed on this island 
any day, — domestic fowls and blue foxes roaming about 
and eating within a few feet of each other. The foxes 
show no disposition to disturb the chickens unless 
driven to it by hunger. Mallard (wild) ducks were 
nesting within a few yards of a rocky ledge in which 
there were six female foxes with their young. They 
will sometimes eat gull eggs. The health of these semi- 
domesticated foxes is rarely affected. They are prac- 
tically free from the usual diseases affecting dogs, such 
as mange and hydrophobia. 

They like cold, dry weather and will gambol and romp 
like young puppies and travel great distances, but on 
hot, sultry days they will stretch themselves out in the 
most lazy positions, flat on their backs, their mouths 
open, panting, and will remain in that position for hours 
at a time, unless disturbed by the approach of sus- 
pected danger. They dislike, especially, damp and 
foggy days, as their heavy coats of fine fur soon become 
saturated. The tail becomes so heavy that it drags on 
the grass and underbrush, hence, they remain in their 
dens or other dry places during rainy days. Occasion- 
ally, in a fit of homesickness, they will swim across the 
narrow channel from one island to another, a distance 
of two hundred yards, and on one occasion several es- 
caped to mainland by swimming a mile. At least, 
Alf never saw them again. They were either drowned or 



252 Some Big Game Hunts 



made a safe landing on the mainland of Kodiak Island. 

Sometimes Alf digs a trench three feet deep and 
eighteen feet long into a hillside at an angle for good 
drainage, and covers it over with rock to make it 
resemble the natural rocky ledge of their liking. Leav- 
ing an opening a foot square, from the main ditch, side 
trenches are dug five feet long. At the end of each he 
makes a conical enlargement. The prospective mother 
will go into this artificially made den and look it over 
carefully, and if the furnishings, size of the rooms, 
width of halls, height of ceiling, plumbing and lighting 
of this ground floor flat are in keeping with the ideas 
of a lying-in chamber or maternity home, she takes 
possession of it at once by standing guard at the ent- 
rance and claiming a squatter's homestead rights to 
the newly found apartments. 

After the young foxes attain quite a size, they make 
many side burrows from the old tunnel and also make 
numerous new holes of exit and entrance. Bluff holes 
are preferred by the foxes near a water course or close 
to the high tide line. 

The males will look after and feed several females 
during the early period of nursing the young foxes. 
However, as soon as the young are large enough for 
the mother to safely leave them she will also carry food 
to her young. The male stands guard while the female 
is away after food for herself and. her young. He then, 
in turn, will bring food while she stands guard. The 
strongest males will whip off weaklings and take charge 



Alaska 



253 




Alf, the guide and fox farmer. 



of the whole harum. On one occasion, Alf threw a 
stick at a female, accidently killing her. She was the 
mother of eight young foxes. The male continued to 
feed the little, motherless creatures and raised every 
one of them. Foxes eat the heads, only, of fresh salmon 
while bears eat only the bodies. If a young fox should 



254 Some Big Game Hunts 

stray from home and be picked up and returned to the 
wrong den, the mother of its adoption would quickly 
kill it and feed it to her own progeny. If foxes have 
plenty of good, fresh food, they will not steal and devour 
the young of other litters, but if the food is of poor 
quality and scarce they will raid other dens and devour 
their young or feed them to their own offspring. 

A stranger, going too close to their dens or disturb- 
ing the surroundings very much may cause these very 
suspicious and watchful little fellows to move their 
young to a new and unoccupied den. This often being 
cold and damp, leads to the death of these very young 
foxes. The animals are disposed, if not killed or dis- 
turbed, to use the same den year after year for a mater- 
nity home. 

For one hundred foxes, Alf puts up and dries fifteen 
thousand humpback salmon. These are caught in the 
bay near the island, and are split open, the heads cut 
off and the entrails thrown away. The salmon are 
dried, unsalted, on long scaffolds. They are then 
stored in a dry fish house and fed to the foxes. Alf 
feeds them about eight o'clock in the evening. The 
feeding place is near his house that they may get used 
to his presence. He has two or three places where the 
food is disturbed during the nursing period of the young, 
that the males may not have so far to carry the food 
to the mother while she is guarding her young. 

The average price for blue fox skins of good quality 
is about thirty dollars. During the season just passed, 



Alaska 255 

Alf marketed forty skins at an average of twenty-five 
dollars apiece. The red fox, at that tme was selling 
for two dollars and fifty cents apiece, while the Arctic 
brought five dollars. The latter are often dyed black 
or the color of a blue fox and sold at the price of the 
blue fox. 

The blue fox industry is carried on only in two or 
three places. Strange as it may seem, but nevertheless 
true, more new countries have been discovered, pion- 
eered and settled by trappers and fur hunters than by 
any other class of explorers. The demand for fur 
garments began with man's first appearance, primarily 
as a necessity, and later as a mark of distinction in 
rank and wealth, and today as a whim of society's 
luxurious fashion ideas. This has increased the demand 
for expensive furs to such an extent that the fur bearing 
animal is becoming very rare. A recognition of this 
fact has brought about a new industry, namely, the 
rearing of these animals in captivity as a commercial 
pursuit. 

The Hudson Bay Company that domineered the 
whole of British America for two centuries was a fur 
company. 

The journey of Stephen Gottloff across the Pacific 
to Kodiak Island was in pursuit of the sea otter and 
seals. The pioneering of Kentucky was done by Boone 
as a hunter and trapper. The whole of the Mississippi 
River was first navigated by fur hunters and so it was 
with all new countries. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

RETURN TRIP BEGINS. SHIPWRECKED CREW AND 

FISHERMEN OF THE COLUMBIA ABOARD A 

BADLY LEAKING BOAT. 

In a reprint from year book of Department of Agri- 
culture, 1907, by Wilfred H. Osgood, he says: 

"Alaska is without a rival in respect to number and 
variety of bears. No fewer than thirteen kinds as 
recognized by recent mammalogists live in the terri- 
tory. These, however, belong to only four general 
types and fall naturally into four groups, the brown 
bears, the grizzlies, the black and polar bears. 

The brown bears are the most numerous and most 
important. Zoologically their relationships are with 
the Old World brown bears, rather than any American 
species. They are of huge size, being much larger than 
the grizzlies and all other bears except the polar bears 
and their own relatives of Kamchatka Island. There- 
fore the statement, often made, that they are the largest 
carnivorous animals in the world needs little, if any, 
qualifications. 

They are confined almost exclusively to the coast 
region, ranging from Bering sea throughout the Alaska 
y)eninsula and some outlying islands and thence south 



Alaska 



257 



along the Pacific coast nearly or quite to British Col- 
umbia. 

Many of the islands of the Alexander Archipeligo 
are inhabited by them and also the nearby mainland. 

Their color varies greatly, ranging from dark seal to 
buffy brown, the feet, legs and underparts usually being 
darker than the shoulders and back. Although the 
ends of the hairs are often paler than the base, the 
silver tipped effect of the grizzly is wanting. 

The front claws are shorter, thicker and more ab- 
ruptly curved than those of the grizzlies. 

It is often said that the brown bears are less ferocious 
than the grizzlies, but evidence is conflicting. Cer- 




IJcar skins secured near Seward, Alaska. [Photo, by Dr. Bauchman.) 



258 Some Big Game Hunts 

tainly they are more powerful and at close quarters 
are correspondingly dangerous. 

They come out of hibernation early in the spring, 
usually in April. The varieties of brown bears as at 
present classified are as follows: "The Kodiak bear 
(Ursus Middendorff), the Alaskan Peninsula bear 
(Ursus Dalli Gyas), the Yakutat bear (Ursus Dalli), 
Sitka bear (Ursus Sitkensis) of Baranof Island, the 
Admiralty Island bear (Ursus Kidderi) of the Alaskan 
Peninsula. With the exception of the last three, which 
are smaller than the others and of uncertain relation- 
ship, all the brown bears are similar in general char- 
acter and external appearance, varital distinctions 
being based mainly upon cranial characters obvious 
only to professional mammalogists." 

He speaks of grizzlies as having similar traits to those 
of the grizzlies found in the United States. 

I am not an expert mammalogist, but I am thoroughly 
convinced that the Kodiak brown bear (Ursus Mid- 
dendorff) is a species of grizzly, modified by his sur- 
roundings, climate and food. 

Two of the five bears killed on this trip had the silver- 
tipped grizzly hairs as distinctly as those seen on any 
Rocky Mountain grizzlies. One of these was a cub, 
the mother being the typical color of the brown bear. 
Their habits are the same as those of the grizzly of the 
Rockies, only changes brought about by environment 
being noticed. 

On May 15th, three A. M. we started in the dory 



Alaska 259 

from Alf s place to the mouth of Brown's Creek, about 
seven miles down the bay. We passed Connell's mine 
on the way down. It was broad daylight, yet there 
was no evidence of sunlight. It was one vast spread 
of even, soft diffused dawn. The quietude was pro- 
found, as we glidded down the bay. The lone watch- 
man at the mine was not astir. This mine is not being 
worked at this time. The same old story, probably 
looking for a "pay streak" in Kansas City or New York. 
Along the shore, it being low tide, the clams were busy 
sending their little fountains of water from beneath 
the sandy beach, reminding one of a vast sprinkling 
pot in the hands of some mythological god, keeping the 
sands moist until the tide returned. 

On the way down the bay, Alvord and I left the boat 
and climbed through a dense thicket of alders and deep 
snow up a long backbone of the mountain to a height 
of three thousand feet and crossed over into the valley 
of Brown's Creek. On our descent we had much dif- 
ficulty in getting through the snow. It was impracti- 
cable to use snow shoes at any time on this hunting 
trip. We struck Brown's Creek about six miles above 
Uyak Bay. We saw some bear tracks in the snow, but 
they were two or three days old. After measuring 
some of these tracks, I can easily understand how a 
casual observer could be mistaken in the size of the 
bear's foot making them. A bear's track in the snow 
that today measures twelve by eight inches, may, if 



260 



Some Big Game Hunts 




A Barabara, my Kodiak Island camp home. 



the snow is melting, measure eighteen by fourteen 
inches, tomorrow. 

Alf and Mose took the boat down the bay and up 
Brown's Creek to intercept us and bring our launch 
and sleeping bags. This stream has a number of power- 
ful waterfalls. We saw out first salmon in this stream 



Alaska 261 

below a whirlpool. They were the silver salmon. As 
we were approaching the mouth of the creek on our re- 
turn, much to our surprise we heard the blast from a 
steam whistle — one long blow, followed by a short one. 
We had made arrangements with Captain McMullen, 
of the Dora, to come up the bay after us on his return 
trip. We did not expect him to return until five days 
later. 

There was no mistaking the whistle. It was that 
of the Dora, and the signal was the one agreed on. 
Every five minutes the boat's warning signal of ap- 
proach was sounded on the other side of Amock Island, 
out of our view. We knew that unless we left Kodiak 
Island on this boat we would be there another full 
month, as the Dora is the only boat making that island, 
and then only once a month. Had we not caught this 
boat, there would have been no telling how long we 
would have remained, as subsequent events will explain. 

We hurriedly got the boat from shore and such row- 
ing I have never witnessed before nor since. I was 
delegated to fire the signal guns from the stern of the 
dory, while the oarsmen strained every muscle in the 
battle with the wind and tide, both of which were 
against us. As we rounded a point of rock jutting into 
the bay, we saw the Dora five miles away, coming into 
view at the farther end of Amock Island. She was 
slowly steaming toward us, but she could not go around 
the island and reach the main channel of travel, as 
there were a number of shallow places. 



262 So7rie Big Game Hunts 

At first, I began firing my thirty-five and then the 
four hundred and five Winchester to attract the atten- 
tion of the officers of the boat, but the wind was against 
us. I saw the boat slowly swinging about to retrace 
her course. Up to this time we had received no evi- 
dence from them that they had seen us or heard our 
signal. To say that we were feeling keenly disap- 
pointed would be to put it mildly. I was keeping up 
my signal fusillade, while Alvord was laughing all the 
time at my frantic efforts at giving full accent to my 
distress signal by waving, and incidentally wearing 
out, his new gum coat. In fact, I am sure I never laid 
so much stress on any of my signals as I did on that 
occasion. 

At last I saw a faint column of white steam coming 
from the Dora's whistle. Would the sound ever 
arrive? It seemed an age before one whistle, a long 
blast, reached us. Had we been seen, or was it the 
Dora's language to pull out? I am not well versed in 
the steamboat vocabulary, and for all I know it might 
have been to go ahead under full steam. Then I heard 
three short toots, which Alf interpreted as "goodbye." 
It was right then that I felt like collapsing. The 
thought of having missed the boat by half a mile, and 
being forced to remain on the island for another full 
month with only one more bear to kill, to reach the 
limit of our license, was the "blow that almost killed 
father." 

I learned, later, that this last signal was a joke per- 



Alaska 26^ 

petrated by Captain McMullen. If he only knew how 
near he came to giving me heart failure, he would never 
do so again ' to anyone. Bless him! He not only 
waited for us, but towed us up to Alf's island and 
waited for us to go ashore and pack up and bring our 
baggage on board. I have never seen such a rapid 
throwing together of camp equipment, or such a quick 
packing of bear skulls and skins. We had five skins 
and skulls to pack in five barrels, as we shipped our 
trophies in brine. 

In our race up the stream, I sometimes felt like turn- 
ing the rifles on Alvord, as he persisted in laughing at 
my dead earnest, persistent and frantic waving of his 
gum coat, all the while telling me that I would have to 
buy him a new one. In addition to this, Alf stopped 
rowing just when I thought we needed him most, and 
in a most deliberate manner filled his pipe with the 
villainous "forty rod" tobacco — the kind that made me 
so deathly sick the day before — and in the most un- 
concerned way, lighted a slow match and began smok- 
ing, all the time the tide was drifting us away from the 
Dora. 

As we approached the Dora, I could see that she was 
crowded with the most motley throng I had ever seen. 
At first, I thought we had mistaken the boat and that 
it was a fishing steamer on her way to some salmon 
cannery. On inquiry, I learned that the sailing vessel, 
Columbia, with the crew and one hundred and ninety- 
five fishermen, en route from San Francisco to Nush- 



264 



Some Big Game Hunts 



agak, had been wrecked on Unimak Island and that the 
Dora had picked them up. Mr. J. R. Nichols, super- 
intendent of the Alaska Salmon Company, gave me a 
history of their terrible experience in this wreck. 

The Steamship Columbia, fourteen hundred tons, 
net, of San Francisco, under care of Captain Cameron, 
— his son, I, Cameron, being first mate — Dr. Thrasher, 
surgeon, Mrs. Cameron, wife of the mate, — the only 
lady on board — sailed from San Francisco April 1st, 
bound for Nushagak, Alaska, where the Alaskan Salmon 
Company has large canneries. The weather was ideal 
up to the day of the storm. They were nearing Una- 
mak Pass, leading into Bering Sea, when they ran 
into a terrible wind and snow storm. They stood under 
Unimak Island to get away from the storm. The wind 




Pari of the Columbia's shipwrecked crew. 



Alaska 265 

shifted and began to blow a heavy gale in shore along 
with heaving swells. They dropped both anchors, but 
both failed to hold on the slate bottom, and the boat 
drifted in on some hidden reefs four hundred yards 
from shore. It was two A. M. when she struck. She 
began pounding badly at once, and soon broke the 
rudder. The Italians were panic stricken and crazed 
by fright. Many of them butted their heads against 
the wall of the ship and became ungovernable. Twelve 
of them stole one of the life boats and ran off with it 
to Scotch Cape Light House, several miles away, and 
reported that the ship and all on board were lost. 
Another bunch of this race tried to get off with another 
one of the life boats, but was prevented by the threa- 
tened use of firearms. The Japs were calm, obeyed 
orders and rendered much assistance in rescuing those 
on board. 

All were saved, but endured much hardship and 
were living on one meal a day when the Dora rescued 
them. They were, indeed, as sorry a looking bunch as 
I ever saw together, Japs, Chinese, Burmese, Italians, 
Swedes and a few Americans, — an omelet of humanity, 
that I trust I will never have to travel with again. 
They were crowded into the hold of the Dora, on her 
decks and in the life boats. The Dora has only a life- 
boat capacity for fifty people. Yet she had on board 
two hundred and sixty. We could look down from the 
dining room into the hold of the boat and see the free 
from care Americans and foreigners playing cards, dom- 



266 Some Big Game Hunts 



inoes and other games, could hear them talking in many- 
languages, or singing songs, according to moods. 
One Irish boy would sing for hours, "H-a-r-r-i-g-a-n, 
spells Harrigan." Another of a lively turn was singing, 
— to me in sarcasm — "Life on the Ocean Waves." 
One love-sick youth was chanting, "Oh, for some one 
to love me!" 

The Italians formed groups among themselves. Japs 
kept apart from the Chinese, while the good-natured 
free-going Irish and Americans might be seen mingling 
with all nationalities. The Italians were disposed to 
be panicy on all occasions and required close watching 
to keep them from becom'ng riotous. One poor fellow 
named, "Sharkey," who was on the wrecked boat, 
became insane and his maniacal cries could be heard 
at all hours of the day and night. 

Thursday, May 20th, at three, A. M., the Dora 
pulled out of Port Graham. The sea was running very 
high and the little Dora, with her flat bottom and old 
type vertical boiler, her engine with only seventy-five 
revolutions per minute in the face of a head wind and 
incoming tide, could make only three miles per hour. 
I thought she cavorted on the going trip, but compared 
to the returning trip she was quite docile. 

As soon as we struck Cook's Inlet, she began a series 
of cork screw and hen wallow movements, which I had 
not thought possible in any craft afloat. She kept this 
up all day and up to eleven o'clock at night, when she 
entered Resurrection Bay and tied up to the wharf at 



Alaska 



267 




The Dora was beached as soon ax her passengers were landed. 



Seward,, the end of her journey. Everybody was 
ordered to disembark. I ate a good, hearty meal as 
soon as I got ashore. Almost everyone on board was 
deathly seasick on this five days' trip of the Dora. 

The next morning, early, I went down to the landing 
to look after my baggage. I was much surprised to 
find the Dora lying high and dry where she had been 
beached at high tide during the night, to keep her from 
sinking at the wharf. Much to my horror, I learned 
that for three days she had been leaking nine feet in 
twenty hours and eight feet of water in her hold would 
sink her. The pumps had saved us by working day 



268 Some Big Game Hunts 

and night. A nice situation to reflect upon, with two 
hundred and sixty on board! A leaking boat in rough 
water, with a life boat capacity of only fifty, and with 
two hundred and sixty aboard. Some one came near 
being drowned. 

The Dora has neither wireless system nor submarine 
bells to give or receive signals of distress. Should she 
be so equipped, she has no sister ship to answer the 
signals or respond to her calls for succor. The heroism 
of the crew of this little craft on every trip she makes 
along the rock-lined and hidden reefs, of the unlighted, 
unsurveyed shore of the thousand miles of her cruise 
is not excelled by that of any crew on any boat in any 
waters of the world. 

Thousands of dangerous points are passed on each 
trip in waters the roughness of which is not surpassed 
in any part of the globe. Especially is this true in the 
long, cold, stormy nights of the Arctic winters where 
night begins at 4 P. M. and dawn arrives at ten in the 
morning. 

Captain Cameron is an old-time sailor. He told me 
he had been sailing forty-seven years without a mishap, 
until the Columbia was grounded and wrecked. His 
son was the mate of the unfortunate ship. Mrs. Cam- 
eron, junior, was the only woman on board the Colum- 
bia when the boat went on the rocks. 

The keelson of the Dora resembled a piece of wood 
that had been hammered into pulp. I asked one of 
the officers how long since the battering took place. 



Alaska 269 

He turned to one of his under officers and said, "Tom, 
did we do this the last trip, or the trip before the last?" 
It was an incident of such frequency that they had for- 
gotten when and where the boat struck the last rock. 

One would, on first thought, expect the climate of 
Kodiak Island to be like that of Greenland, but the 
Japanese current, with its warm waters and heated 
breath circling the island, robs it of much of its frigid- 
ity. It is situated as very few islands are, in the zone 
of severe winters, yet the temperature rarely goes ten 
degrees below zero. 

The island is of volcanic origin and is one continuous 
body of volcanic cones, many of which are perfect and 
beautiful. The higher altitudes are barren, fissured 
and gnashed by the one-time glacial action. 

There is a scant growth of cottonwood for the first 
six hundred feet, with a dense growth of alders and 
willows up to the fifteen hundred foot level. This 
appears to be the timber line on the island. Some of 
its peaks must attain an altitude of six thousand feet. 
One peak near Uyak Bay measured by aneroid over 
four thousand feet and others farther into the interior, 
I am sure, were at least two thousand feet higher. The 
higher peaks have perpetual snow. 

The temperature was usually about fifty, during our 
stay on the island, yet there was a cold, damp pene- 
tration about this weather that drove the warm blood 
from the surface of the body and made one chill easily. 



270 Some Big Game Hunts 

— a cold that heavy blankets failed to dispel. Only 
the dry air within the cook tent from the stove brought 
comfort. 



CHAPTER XXV. 

SOME THOUGHTS ON ALASKA, ITS RESOURCES, INHAB- 
ITANTS, GAME LAWS. THE MOOSE 
COW HYBRID. 

Alaska is our last great frontier, unless we claim 
the frigid area about the north pole. Since the stars 
and stripes have been planted there by a native son of 
our country, I predict that we will have no trouble in 
getting volunteers to protect our interest up there. 

When we speak of settlers in a new country it carries 
the thought of gardens, farms and stock raising, hence, 
one is lost for a word to apply to the early gold or rather 
precious metal seekers. We speak of the pioneers of 
Kentucky and Missouri as settlers, while the gold 
seekers of early California are mentioned as "Forty- 
niners." 

Alaska is a vast country. People living a thousand 
miles apart speak of each other as neighbors. Think 
of Mrs. Jones, of New York, talking of Mrs. Smith, 
her neighbor, of Kansas City. The people of Alaska 
are freer from modern graft methods than are the in- 
habitants of any country I have ever visited. Their 
unassuming and free hospitality reminds one of the 
genuine southern article. 

I did not find many who were seriously in love with 



272 



Some Big Game Hunts 




Dutch Harbor. [Photo, by J. E. T.) 



the country, yet that everlasting spirit of adventure 
and pursuit prevails and binds many with its enchant- 
ing and luring thongs. The one ambition of all — 
"Strike it lucky and go out" (return to the states) — 
may well be written over the, "In love with Alaska" 
sign wherever you find it. 

A remarkable sectional pride is manifested at each 
point I visited, each claiming to have the best weather in 
his district. A gentleman standing on the wharf at Cor- 
dovia was kicking about the special damp brand of 
weather that was being dished up to him. He was 
from the Yukon River district. — A scope of country 
over two thousand miles in length. I asked him about 
the weather over there. He replied, "Oh, of course, 
we sometimes have it from sixty to seventy degrees 



Alaska 273 

below zero, but we do not notice it, as we have warm 
cabins and plenty of firewood." 

Distances are measured only by the number of days 
it takes to travel them. The life and existance of the 
pioneers of any country are strenuous enough, but 
what the Alaskan must suffer is beyond conjecture. 
The loneliness of his surroundings, the barrenness of the 
landscape, the absence of almost all forms of life and 
the terrible strife for existence going on in every phase 
of life, be it flora, or fauna, is sufficient to make the 
least sentimental individual die of homesickness, yet 
you will find many people who will endorse the expres- 
sion of one old "sour dough," — old-time Alaskan — 
whom I met at Cordovia. He told me that he had 
lived in that far away country for twenty years. He 
related many of his hardships, — the narrow escapes 
from snow slides, harrowing experiences in madly rush- 
ing cataracts in unexplored rivers, terrible trials from 
hunger and suffering from cold. He was a Missourian. 
When I asked how anyone from the richest farming 
county in Missouri could be contented away from all 
that implies — fresh fruit, good green vegetables, mail 
and daily papers, he replied, very earnestly: 

."Alaska used to be a devil of a good country until 
they began bringing in the papers and letters. Since 
then the country has all gone to hell." 

He had just heard of a new strike up near Nome, and 
was taking the steamer from Cordovia to Seattle, 
fifteen hundred miles southeast to start northwest to 



274 



Some Big Game Hunts 



Nome, seventeen hundred miles. He was sure of 
striking it rich this time. So it goes, the lure of the 
gilded spoon continues to attract. 

To speak of Alaska as an agricultural country is to 
perpetrate a huge joke on the vast domain of the United 
States recognized as good farming land. A few little 
garden spots are being cultivated, the variety of veg- 
etables that will thrive being very limited. Kodiak 
Island has been especially extolled as a good cattle 
raising country. I was informed from a reliable source 
that the experimental farming and cattle growing on 
the island has proven to be unprofitable and has been 
abandoned. 

There is very little left of the romantic or poetic make- 
up in the native Alaskan, the romantic or poetic being 




An Alaskan garden at Seward. 



Alaska 275 

a marked feature of the make-up of our American 
Indians. Humidity, frigidity, fish diet, isolation and 
Alaskan mosquitoes are not likely to father romance or 
poetry. If you think so, I beg of you not to ask, — 
"show me." 

The mysterious poetry of the ancestral tree or totem 
pole, a custom of antiquity, is disappearing and the 
polished marble slab with the modernized inscription 
has come to supplant it. 

When the boat landed at Juneau, an Alaskan Indian 
woman came on board; her husband had been legally 
murdered — justifiable homicide — near Cordovia, a few 
months before. She had traveled over a thousand 
miles to buy a marble tombstone for the dead husband 
of "Sitka Mary." 

The Russians, with their debauchery when they 
landed on the Aleutian Islands, soon disseminated all 
their lustful diseases among the natives, evidence of 
which is discernible in the little remnant of the few 
descendants left of this disappearing race. The Aleuts 
are good-natured in disposition, lazy to the extreme 
in their daily life, filthy in their habits and they are 
doomed to extinction, like all copper-colored natives 
where the white man invades his domain. He is 
medium in stature, an expert in his badarka, a cowardly 
hunter and a poor marksman. The barabaras, or 
Aleut houses, are not models of architectural beauty, 
but they are warm and dry, — two very important 
items in the matter of comfort to a hunter on rainy, 



276 



Some Big Game Hunts 




Ancestral frees or Totem Poles. 



cold Kodiak Island. They are lined with small cotton- 
wood poles set on end and roofed over with the same, 
then covered with earth to the depth of two feet or 
more. Many of them contain a Turkish bath annex. 
The bidarkas or kayaks are the native hunting 
boats. They are by far the most graceful boats I have 
ever seen on the water. They glide along as smoothly 
and noiselessly on the surface of the water as a duck. 
They are easily paddled and are very light. A three 
hatch boat is easily carried by one man. They are 
made of an alder frame over which is stretched the 



Alaska 277 

skins of the hair seal, hair side out. They are strong 
and durable. 

The game law of Alaska at this time is a farce. It 
does not protect the big game from the ruthless slaugh- 
ter by the natives and worse, by the prospectors who, 
under the guise of a gold pan, kill deer, moose and cari- 
bou for the market. It is true that it limits the number 
of trophies shipped by the real sportsman and res- 
tricts the number of hunters going to Alaska, yet the 
average pot hunter may continue to kill at his pleasure. 

Before you are permitted to hunt in Alaska, you 
must procure a hunting license, and if you are going to 
hunt on the Kenai Peninsula a licensed guide must 
accompany you. The guide's salary is ten dollars per 
day. 

Hunting license for Alaska, for the year 1909: 

"Under the provisions of section five of an act of Con- 
gress entitled, An Act for the protection of game in 
Alaska and for other purposes, approved May 11th, 
1908. 

Dr. A. H. Cordier, residing at Kansas City, Missouri, 
a citizen of the United States, having paid the sum of 
fifty dollars, is hereby licensed to hunt game in Alaska 
according to the provisions of the above entitled act. 
This license is not transferable and shall be valid only 
during the calendar year 1909, and authorizes the ship- 
ment by the holder hereof of four deer, three mountain 



278 Some Big Game Hunts 

sheep, three goats, three brown bears, two moose, (if 
killed north of sixty-two degrees) and three caribou, 
killed anywhere except on Kenai Peninsula, upon 
presentation of this license to the collector or Deputy 
Collector of Customs for Alaska, at Juneau, Alaska. 
This 25th day of April, 1909. 

(Signed) W. B. HOGGATT, 
Governor of Alaska." 



Seattle, Wash. April 29, 1909. 
To the Customs Officials and United States Marshals, 
First and Third Divisions of Alaska. 

Sirs: 

The bearer, Dr. A. H. Cordier, of Kansas City, comes 
to me highly recommended, and I take pleasure in 
commending him to your consideration during his visit 
to Alaska. Any courtesies shown to him will be ap- 
preciated by Dr. Cordier and myself. 

Very truly yours, 

(Signed) W. B. HOGGATT, 
Governor- of Alaska. 



Alaska 



279 




Alulaniiilf. 



This Malamute was the leader of the winning team 

n the thousand mile sled handicap race across Alaska, 

last winter. Some one said "mush" to him, just as I 

Ipressed the button, hence the blurring of the picture. 

On returning with hunting trophies at the first port 
where there is located a customs office, the hunter must 
declare that he has not purchased the trophy, that it 
belongs to him and that the provision of the game law 
has not been violated. On arriving at Seattle, a cus- 
toms official overhauls your specimens and gives you 
clearance papers. 



280 Some Big Game Hunts 

There are twenty thousand reindeer in Alaska and 
the herd is increasing rapidly. In the patch of alders 
near my barabara, I heard, one day, what I thought to be 
a familiar sound. It proved to be a little nuthatch. 
He had modified his habits to suit his surroundings and 
was industriously scratching among the leaves for food. 
I presume he misses the rough bark oak, walnut and 
other southern trees where he is wont to search for his 
breakfast. I was glad to see and make a visit with the 
little fellow. 

I was very much disappointed in the number of shore 
birds seen on the beach of Kodiak Island. I saw a few 
mallard, teal, widgeon and pin tail ducks, some Wilson 
snipe, a few geese, peculiar to that country, and several 
kinds of sea gulls. I was much interested in witnessing 
the gulls feeding on clams that are so plentiful on the 
shores of this island. At low tide great flocks of these 
birds congregate at the water's edge to feed on the 
clams and other mollusks. 

When a gull secured a clam, he would fly to a nearby 
rocky shore and from a height of twenty feet drop the 
clam down on the rocks to break the shell. If his first 
attempt was a failure, he would rise a little higher next 
time before he dropped it. If the shell was fractured, 
he quickly swallowed the clam. If this effort failed, 
he tried again or returned to the clam bed to 
get another and less hard shell. I saw one gull drop 
the same clam eight times, finally giving up the job as 
a failure. I was told that the ravens, crows and mag- 



Alaska 281 

pies will resort to the same method to break the clam 
shells. If this is not reasoning, what is it? 

Our old Colorado and Wyoming, white and black 
magpie is to be found here with his thieving propen- 
sities. However, he sees so little of mankind and his 
equipment that he is more shy than his states cousins. 
It is truly a country of a battle for existance so stren- 
uous that no living creature can afford to take any 
chances of losing. Nature has so decreed it. All birds 
and animals are more shy and alert than in a warmer 
climate. 

The Aleuts look forward to two feast dates. One 
when the silver salmon begins his run in June and when 
the gulls begin to lay, about the last of May. Myriads 
of these birds congregate along the shores of Alaska in 
May. Their favorite nesting places are on the top 
or shelving sides of small islands. It was a mystery 
to me how any gull could tell the location of her nest 
in the midst of the many thousand bunched together 
on these islands. Gulls lay from three to five eggs. 
The eggs are fairly palatable to the taste of a white 
man longing for fresh eggs. The natives prize them 
very highly. 

The new Alaskans with their desire to have the same 
comforts and live as they did in the states are ever on 
the alert to grasp any new ideas with a trend to their 
betterment. Our government is assisting and encour- 
aging this effort. However, many of Uncle Sam's 
endeavors have not been attended with marked success. 



282 Some Big Game Hunts 

The experimental stock farm, I understand, has been 
voted a failure. Burbank's idea of blending fruits and 
vegetables has been tried along the lines of animal 
adaptability to the climate of Alaska, so I was told. 
I do not vouch for the authenticity of this statement; 
it was told to me by an old "sour dough," about as 
follows : 

"You know our Uncle Sam tried to raise in Alaska 
a number of fine haired, thin skinned, meek eyed, con- 
fiding Jersey cows. Well, the first Yukon blizzard 
that took a peep over the coastal range of mountains 
picked these unsophisticated free givers out with its 
eyes shut and placed them in the Alaska cold storage 
plant. This discouraged "Uncle" so he abandoned the 
dairy scheme in Alaska. It was then I decided to ex- 
tend the Burbank idea to the animal kingdom by trying 
to blend the domestic cow with the Alaskan moose. 
I succeeded in a measure, but the blend was not a true 
one, as the creature reminded me of a peach graft on 
a white oak tree, each living on the other. The cow 
side was the left side, while the right side was entirely 
moose. It was the most comical looking creature I 
ever saw. In the early spring the moose horns dropped 
off. The moose half was a male, while the cow half 
kept her horn. When the cow wanted to graze the 
moose would persist in browsing on the underbrush. 
It annoyed the cow very much when the moose began 
rubbing the velvet off his horns, and frightened her 
nearly to death when the moose would plunge headlong 



Alaska 283 

into some raging torrent and stick his side of the head 
under water to feed on lily pads. As fall of the year 
approached, the moose's instinct to fight other moose 
in his battles to win the admiration of the Mrs. Mooses 
near my cabin usually resulted in the cow getting 
badly hooked and otherwise injured. Every night the 
moose would start on his usual love-making tours. Of 
course, this was of very little interest to the cow. In 
fact, his antics bored her badly. His legs were very 
much longer than the cows. Try as he would, he 
could never run away as his long legs traveled faster 
than the cow's and his detours usually resulted in the 
combination walking in a circle. It usually completed 
the circle each morning just at milking time. This is 
where the cow got even." 

"Won't you take a little more of the butterine?" 
We remained in Seward several days, waiting for 
the boat to take us to Seattle. The steamship North- 
western, the boat on which we returned is a well 
equipped, comfortable boat. Our return trip was 
not marked by any incident of special importance. 

We had been gone several weeks, had some narrow 
escapes from drowning, some hardships had been en- 
dured and we returned with five fine Kodiak brown 
bear skins, well satisfied and amply repaid for all we 
had endured. 



HUNTING THE JAVELINA ALONG THE 
RIO GRANDE IN TEXAS 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

HUNTING THE JAVELINA ALONG THE RIO GRANDE IN 

TEXAS. 

Accepting an invitation from my friend, George D. 
Ford, of Kansas City, Missouri, to accompany him to 
his ranch in Southwest Texas, on a hunting trip, we 
left for Cactus, December 6th, 1910. In the party 
were my old friend, H. P. Wright, and Mr. Foster, of 
Kansas City. Mr. Ford's ranch is composed of one 
hundred and fifty thousand acres all under a four 
wired, barbed fence. This ranch is located one hun- 
dred and fifty miles below San Antonio. When we 
arrived at the latter place where we were to change 
cars to another road, we learned that the train was 
eight hours late. Here we were met by "Tom" Cole- 
man, of San Antonio, who ordered a special train of two 
coaches to take us on our journey. Mr. Coleman, 
known all over the Southwest as "Tom," is one of those 
big-hearted, wholesouled Texans who have, by their 
congeniality, made the state famous for the hospitality 
of its citizens. Tom has under wire about nine hun- 
dred miles of fence enclosing five hundred thousand 
acres of Southwestern Texas grazing land. 

We were met at Cactus by some fence riders of the 
Callahan (Mr. Ford's) ranch, and our equipment and 



Hunting the Javelina in Texas 287 

selves were conveyed to the ranch house, ten mile^ 
from Cactus. To my surprise I found large houses 
with modern improvements, such as bath rooms and 
other conveniences. What strange surroundings to 
one who has been in the habit, while on hunting trips, 
of sleeping on the ground, in snow, rain and cold, to 
have nice brass beds, clean linen, a table and chairs to 
sit down in and a napkin at each china plate, and fresh 
cream and butter. Amid all these modern luxuries 
I could stand on the veranda, almost any day, and see 
jack rabbits, quails, wolves, and on several occasions, 
wild deer grazing in plain view of the ranch house. I 
doubt whether there exists in any other civilized coun- 
try such an ideal game preserve. 

Mr. Coleman came down the next day and brought 
his auto and remained with us during the hunt, making 
us his guests part of the time, at his beautiful ranch 
house thirty miles away. 

Mr. Ford, known as "Uncle George," is one of the 
pioneer cattle men of the Southwest. His stories of 
early hardships, Indian scares and cattle roundups are 
very interesting, and would make a most readable book, 
if printed. 

On my return from this hunt I was telling one of my 
friends that I was hunting in a pasture in Texas. He 
said: 

"That was nice, as you could not get lost." 

When I told him that this same pasture was sixty 
miles long, he was much surprised. In fact, I had 



Some Big Game Hunts 



never hunted in any locality, except New Brunswick, 
where one could get lost so easily. Every mesquite 
tree, and each bunch of prickly pears or choya looks 
like the other. 

This country evidently at one time formed a part of 
the Gulf of Mexico. It is one broad expanse of undu- 
lating country made up of sand, small round pebbles 
and cobble stones. The whole country is covered with 
bunches of prickly pears, choya, salt weeds, creosote 




The beautiful white tail deer of Texas. 



Hunting the Javelina in Texas 289 



brush, occatilla, acacia, palo-verde, and organ pipe 
cacti, that grow in clusters or are sparsely scattered 
over the country. Cattle find an abundance of nutri- 
tious grasses in the open spots. 

The mesquite is invaluable to the ranchman for fence 
post and fire wood, and occasionally the hunter, when 
pressed by javeline, finds this tree a safe retreat; and 
of this feature of javeline hunting many authentic cases 
were cited to me, while on this hunt. 

The jack rabbits are a veritable nuisance on this 
ranch, as they are so numerous in some localities that 
they have practically eaten all the grass. While auto 
riding through the ranch on some of the boulevard-like 
Cendaros, I witnessed some fine running shots on these 
pests by Mr. Coleman. Going at forty miles an hour 
he rareV missed a jack rabbit, even though it was 
going faster than the automobile. 

Rattlesnakes grow to an enormous size in this local- 
ity. We killed three in one day, one measuring over 
six feet. They are very ugly in disposition, as they 
showed fight, even before we saw them. lii one local- 
ity they were especially plentiful. 

Having been bitten by a Kansas prairie rattler a 
number of years ago, I am inclined to take a safe 
position when near this snake, hence, one night when 
we camped in a good snake locality, I slept in the rear 
seat of the automobile. 

Coyotes celebrate by day as well as by night. Every 
day I heard them rehearsing their matinees. 



290 Some Big Game Hunts 

We saw a number of bob-cats on this trip. One day 
while hunting the Gambel quail near the ranch, I shot 
a large bob-cat with number seven shot, knocking him 
down. But he got away by running through the cac- 
tus and mesquite. 

The chuck wagon of old is found here with all of its 
picturesque, primitive frontier make-up. One could 
imagine himself surrounded by Spanish brigands or 
Mexican rurales, when camped at the chuck wagon 
with Juan Gonzales, as cook, with Jose Angel, range 
rider, with Martin Gomez, cowboy, and a host of other 
quietly-moving, soft-talking Mexicans as attendants. 
Finer barbecued meat I never tasted than the broiled 
venison cooked by Juan Gonzales, cook to the chuck 
wagon outfit. 

On several occasions I saw the successful calling of 
the buck deer by a method never witnessed by me be- 
fore; that is by "rattling." The rattler takes his 
position in a clump of trees in a locality known to be 
good for deer. This while the deer are running, or 
mating. With a pair of deer antlers he makes a noise 
like two bucks fighting by striking the horns together 
sharply and rattling the prongs together, as though 
two bucks were fighting. I saw one buck called to 
within thirty feet of the rattler. He came bounding 
over mesquite and cactus, with his hair all on ends with 
defiance, and determination pictured in his every 
movement and attitude. Hearing two bucks fighting, 
one morning early, I crawled up to within a hundred 



Hunting the Javelina in Texas 291 

yards of them. They were in a clump of underbrush, 
so that I could not see them, and I dared go no farther 
lest I frighten them. Three does and a year-old fawn 
were grazing near by in a little opening. Occasionally, 
they raised their heads and in an unconcerned way 
looked toward the two gladiators fighting for suprem- 
acy, near by, then continued to graze, as before. I 
waited for the third buck to come, but he never came. 
Had he arrived on the battle gi'ound, he would have 
taken possession of the does and left the fighting bucks 
to settle their own troubles by themselves. On some 
occasions, some animals, by their actions, are almost 
human. 

That the thorny nature of the underbrush and cac- 
tus is a protection to the smaller mammals and birds is 
easily proven by the vast number of jack rabbits, 
cotton tails and the many large bunches of Gambel 
quails and bob whites. Even the deer are compar- 
atively free from their worst enemy — the cougar — 
owing to this thorny, natural fortification. A moun- 
tain lion would have a hard time of it should he go 
bounding against any of these thorny plants, or per- 
chance, light with his broad, rounded feet on a bunch 
of prickly pears, or on the terrible thorny choya. A 
deer, with his long, slender legs and hoofed feet can 
jump over and light in little open spaces with his body 
above much of the thorny demons by which a panther 
would be wounded. Jack rabbits, on the open, level 
plains of Western Kansas, will when pursued, always 



292 Some Big Game Hunts 

take to the most barren level ground, depending on the 
swiftness of their feet to distance pursuers, be they 
wolves or greyhounds. 

In this cactus-grown country the jack rabbit's fav- 
orite bedding ground is underneath a little bunch of 
stunted mesquite in the comparatively open country. 
This permits him to see his enemy, the coyote, or bob 
cats and leopard cats, before they are within springing 
distance. However, as soon as he is disturbed, he 
makes for the nearest and thickest cactus bunches in 
sight and his pursuers quickly give up the chase in 
disappointment and disgust, A dog will not chase 
anything in this tangle of needles. An imported dog 
may try it one time. And I have even known one 
hunter who tried to hasten, but quickly found out his 
mistake, and for weeks afterward continued to pick 
spines from various parts of his anatomy. 

Mocking birds abound here in these nonpoetic and 
unromantic surroundings. A favorite nesting place is 
in the triangle of three broad, flat leaves of the prickly 
pear. Nothing but a small winged bird could invade 
these homes. The dignified Gambel quail is found in 
great numbers, their favorite feeding ground being in 
the open cactus-bound places. They are very wild and 
do not, like their bob white cousins, hide and flush in 
a bunch, but depend on their swift running powers to 
carry them away from danger. In fact, they will not 
fly very far when you crowd them, as their instinct or 
reason has taught them that their safety largely depends 



Hunting the Javelina in Texas 293 

on keeping under the protecting, broad leaves and sticky 
limbs of the ever-present cactus and choyas. These 
birds are about the size of the northern bob white, but 
not as palatable. 

For speed on foot and freakish habits, the road roller 
surpasses any bird I have ever seen. He is despised 
by the ranchmen as jays are by us. He is a great des- 
troyer of other birds' nests, especially those of quails. 
One day I tried to run one down, or put him to wing. 
After chasing him for two hundred yards without even 
making him move a wing I gave up. I have since 
learned that they can outrun a horse. These birds 
belong to the cuckoo family, and are about the size and 
color of a camp thief, only a little less heavy-set and 
possessing a tail out of all proportion to the body. 

The Javeline, collared Peccary, or Mexican hog, for 
his inches and weight, is beyond doubt the biggest 
idiot and the bravest animal living, and his power for 
inflicting damage on anything attacked is thoroughly 
established. 

It was to hunt this wild pig that I made this trip 
into Southwest Texas. These animals are found along 
both banks of the Rio Grande, from its source to its 
mouth, especially in Texas and in Old Mexico. The 
hunting of the javeline is a sport in which not many of 
our hunters have indulged. I consider it one of the 
best of sports, as it presents phases of difficulties, hard- 
ships and dangers different in some respects from other 
hunting. For instance, they are found in the thickets 



294 



Some Big Game Hunts 



of iron wood, mesquite, creosote brush and cactus 
along the streams, making the hunting hard and pain- 
ful owing to the density and thorny character of the 
underbrush; and there is a dash of danger attending 
the wounding of a peccary or the capturing of a young 
pig that is of real interest to the hunter, especially when 
the nearest tree is only four inches thick and ten feet 




"Chuck" wagon and Mexican fence riders. 



Hunting the Javelina in Texas 295 

high, and every inch of all its branches is covered with 
thorns an inch or more in length. 

These wild pigs frequently run in droves of from 
thirty to fifty. They subsist on grasses, roots and cac- 
tus. A crippled rabbit, a deer or a rattlesnake would 
not be ignored by a peccary when hungry. They vary 
in size from thirty to sixty-five pounds, and in height 
from twenty to twenty-eight inches, and in length 
from thirty-six to forty-four inches. In color they are 
almost black at a distance of fifty feet, but each hair 
has white spots on it about one-fourth of an inch long 
and about the same distance apart. This gives these 
animals a peculiar grayish color at a distance of a few 
feet. The hairs are thinly scattered, are very coarse, 
and in repose lie very flat on the skin, but excitement 
or rage causes them to stand up like the quills of a 
porcupine, the bristles being six or more inches in length. 
The javeline has a distinct white collar, or band, ex- 
tending from about on a level with the notch in the 
sternum, or breast bone, over the shoulders, running 
backward and upward, crossing the spine about on a 
level with the upper ends of the scapula, or shoulder 
blade. These animals are ungainly looking brutes, 
with their long snout-like noses, narrow spine-like 
faces, long ears, heavy shoulders, tapering back to their 
little, narrow hips, slender legs, diminutive feet and no 
tails. All these peculiarities make the picture of a 
peccary. They have tusks in both upper and lower 
jaws, the lower being placed in front of the upper tusk, 



296 Some Big Game Hunts 

but coming in contact with it like the blades of a pair 
of scissors. The tusks are perfectly straight, and 
measure from one and one-third to one and three- 
quarter inches. They give birth to from two to four 
pigs, once or twice in twelve months, having no special 
rutting season. They feed both by day and by night, 
but usually at night and in the early morning, lying in 
the shade during the heat of the day. They will attack 
a wolf, a horse or any other animal in the defense of 
their young, and will kill a dog in a few seconds, unless 
he runs away from them. It is this feature of peccary 
hunting that is especially dangerous. I refer to the 
hunting of them with dogs. If the dog is hard pressed 
by them he \vill run to his master, and that dog owner, 
if he is acquainted with the javelina courage, will take 
to the nearest tree, if he is hunting on foot, and if there 
is a large bunch of these pigs after his dog. They have 
the faculty of actually "treeing" men as a dog would a 
squirrel. The truthfullness of this statement may be 
verified in almost any locality where the javelina are 
plentiful. 

Authorities differ in their opinions as to the ill temper 
and ferocity of these little pigs. For instance. Stone 
and Grame say: 

"Whatever there may be in the stories of the fierce- 
ness of the South American peccaries, our species seems 
to be a harmless beast, preferring to escape by flight 
rather than turn upon its pursuer." 



Hunting the Javelina in Texas 297 




Texas Javelina under an average sized Mesquite Tree. 



While Mr. Hornaday, one of our very best natural- 
ists, states : 

"An enraged peccary, athirst for blood, is to any one 
not armed with a rifle or a first rate spear a formidable 
antagonist." 

A puma, wolf, bob cat or ocelot would stand no show 
to get away with a young peccary, if once surrounded 
by a bunch of forty or fifty grown javelina. The 



298 Some Big Game Hunts 

cutting powers of their strong tusks — if to this were 
added their bravery in the defence of their young — 
would more than out weigh the cunning and agility of 
the puma in his attack. 

One habit possessed by the domestic hog, seemingly 
is wanting in this wild pig, namely: the disposition 
to wallow in the mud and water. Although the days 
were very warm at the time that I made this hunt, 
and several water holes existed in the vicinity of the 
haunts of the peccaries, I failed to find a single place 
where they had even waded or rolled in the mud. In 
fact, I am told they can go without water to drink for 
many days, especially when feeding on cactus, or other 
succulent provender. 

Mr. Coleman related to me an instance where a fence 
rider had wounded a deer, and was following the trail 
of blood, when he ran on to a bunch of thirty or forty 
javelina, also following the bloody trail. The javelina 
turned on him. He climbed a mesquite tree to escape 
them, when to his horror, the peccaries camped on his 
trail and kept him up in the mesquite all night, but 
they departed after sunrise. During this hunt of mine, 
a hunter near the same ranch I was on, wounded a 
peccary. It began to squeal when seemingly every 
bunch of cactus liberated a javeline, which, in turn, 
made for him. He started for his horse one hundred 
yards away, but they crowded him so closely that he 
took to a mesquite sapling just in time to escape them. 
But his poor horse a few yards away was not so fortun- 



Hunting the Javelina in Texas 299 

ate, as they attacked him and cut his legs very badly, 
and would have killed him had he not broken his hitch 
strap and escaped them. The hunter remained up the 
tree for two or three hours, then descended and left 
in a hurry. 

These pigs can be tamed, if captured early. They 
make nice little pets and become very affectionate to 




A Texas JaceUua. 



300 Some Big Game Hunts 

their owners, but will show their ugly dispositions to 
any stranger who comes near to them, turning their 
bristles and, if provoked, attacking the intruder. In 
fact, I was told that they make very good yard guards, 
or watch hogs. 

Dave Yarber was my hunting escort while hunting 
the javelina. Dave is a fence rider, and is thoroughly 
posted on the habits of these brutes and on their haunts. 
We hunted on foot, and I carried a rifle the first day, 
but decided to hunt with a shotgun loaded with buck- 
shot. We saw many signs of the pigs the first day, 
where they had been feeding and sleeping, but failed 
to find one. The next day we found a boar and a sow 
in a dense thicket. They jumped up within twenty 
feet of us. I shot at the boar as he disappeared in the 
dense underbrush. The sow paused just long enough 
for me to- get a fair shot at her. She disappeared, 
causing me to think that I had missed her, but on look- 
ing about in the brush for a few yards, I found her badly 
■ wounded. Another shot quickly put an end to her. 
I made a photograph of her, where she fell. This 
picture shows a mesquite tree of about the average size 
of the full grown Texas mesquite. I saw many signs 
of javelina, but did not hunt them after killing this 
one. I took accurate measurements of this peccary. 
She weighed fifty-five pounds. 

Height at shoulder, 23 inches. 

Height at hips, 21 inches. 

End of coccyx to nose, 36 inches. 



Hunting the Javelina in Texas 301 



Nose to center between eyes, 7 inches. 

About nose at tusk, 9 inches. 

About eyes, 17 inches. 

About neck, 18 inches. 

From nose between ears, 11 inches. 

About head at ears, 20 inches. 

Fore leg to body, 12 inches. 

Hind leg to body, 13 inches. 

About body back of legs, 28 inches. 

About body front of hind legs, 24 inches. 

Lower jaw, including teeth, 7 inches. 

Length of bristles at shoulder, 6 inches. 

Incisors, 4, upper jaw. 

Rudimentary, 2, upper jaw. 

Molars, 12, upper jaw. 

Molars, 12, lower jaw. 

Tusk, 2, upper jaw. 

Tusk, 2, lower jaw. 
These tusks are nearly straight, and are flattened on 
their surfaces. The upper tusk has a large tuberosity 
at its attachment to the maxilla, thus giving it great 
force and strength. The upper lip is divided by a split 
at the site of the tusk with a peculiar labial projection 
into the space between the first molar and the tusk, 
the space from the first molar to tusk being one and 
one-fourth inches. Length of tusk, one and one-half 
inches. Ten to twelve bristles above each eye, about 
four inches long. Eyes, dark brown. Distance be- 
tween eyes two and one-half inches. Ears, five inches 



302 Some Big Game Hunts 

long, on back surface. Three inches between ears. 
Seven inches from under side of jaw to center of the 
bridge of the nose. Four teats. Outer dew claw on 
both hind feet absent. About five inches from the 
tips of the coccyx in medium line there was a well 
marked enlargement that showed the location of the 
musk gland. This gland measured about five by three 
inches and weighed about four ounces. It had a duct 
that opened on the surface and emitted a pungent, 
strong odor. Its use is to me unknown. 

I have thus given this lengthy description of this 
javelina's height and other measurements because I 
find so little written about this animal in any works at 
my command, on natural history. 

Of all my hunting trips, this one to the Callahan and 
Coleman ranches was the most comfortable and en- 
joyable. 

I have made many big game hunting trips over a 
wide scope of the North American continent, some of 
which are not mentioned in this book, although suc- 
cessful. I have always based the estimate of the suc- 
cess of any trip, not upon the number and variety of 
animals killed, but upon the grand scenery witnessed; 
upon the good fellowship of my companions; upon the 
glorious sunshine; upon the life-giving, pure air; upon 
the regenerated vigor and prolonged good health; and 
upon the knowledge gained of animals, birds and fishes 
of the country traversed to and from the hunting 
grounds. All of these and many other things make 



Hunting the Javelina in Texas 303 

big game hunting a most interesting pastime; makes 
one long for the time to arrive for another expedition; 
make him shrink from the thought of that period of 
Hfe when, bowed with age, he will be unable to go again. 

Thanks to the camera, he can then take down his 
picture record of his trips, and in his winter evening 
reveries go, again, to the hunting grounds of the past. 

May that period in your life and mine, dear reader, 
be many years from today. 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

The Apostled of Alaska, by J. W. Arctander. 

The Harvest of the Sea, by W. T. Grenfell. 

The Young Alaskan, by Emerson Hough. 

Northern Trails, by Wm. J. Long. 

Camping in The Canadian Rockies, by W. T. Hornaday. 

My Life As An Indian, by J. W. Shultz. 

A Hermit's Wild Friends, by Mason A. Walton. 

Alaska, by Ella Higginson. 

Camp Fires On Desert And Lava, by W. T. Hornaday. 

Trailing And Camping In Alaska, by Addison M. 

Powell. 
American Big Game Hunting, by Theodore Roosevelt. 
Grizzly Bear, by Wm. H. Wright. 
Outdoor Pastime of an American Hunter, by Theodore 

Roosevelt. 
With Rifle In Five Continents, by Neidieck. 
American Natural History, by Hornaday. 
American Birds, by W. L. Finley. 



304 Some Big Game Hunts 

Bird Life, by F. M. Chapman. 

My Sixty Years On The Plains, by W. T. Hamilton. 

Jungle Trails And Jungle People, by Caspar Whitney. 

To The Top Of The Continent, by F. A. Cook. 

The Prairie And Sea, by Wm. A. Quayle. 

Afield With The Seasons, by James Buckham. 

In God's Out-Of-Doors, by Wm. A. Quayle. 

The Royal Natural History, by Richard Lydekker. 

Flashlights In The Jungles, by C. G. Schillings. 

Through the courtesy of my friend, Mr. Chalkley 
("Chalk") M. Beeson, of Dodge City, Kansas, I am 
permitted to reproduce his realistic description of the 
buffalo hunt participated in by the noted Indian fighter, 
General Custer, the brave soldier. General Sheridan, 
the Grand Duke Alexis and the last of the great scouts, 
Honorable William F. Cody. This is the story as 
recited in a late issue of the Kansas Magazine (May, 
1909): 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

A ROYAL BUFFALO HUNT 

By Chalkley M. Beeson. 

The Grand Duke Alexis, a younger brother of Lhe 
then Czar of Russia, made a tour of the United States 
in the fall of 1870 and winter of 1871. The American 
government had not forgotten the cordial and timely 
support that Russia gave the Northern cause in the 
Civil War and no foreigner was ever more enthusias- 
tically welcomed or more heartily entertained than was 
this scion of the Romanoffs. 

Among other things the Grand Duke was a sports- 
man and he was anxious to have a shot at the big game 
that roamed the western prairies, and a trip was ar- 
ranged for him. Generals Custer and Sheridan and 
William F. Cody, the famous scout, were with him. 
A special train was provided, for which, by the way, 
the Grand Duke paid out of his own pocket. A small 
army of servants accompanied it and it is said that no 
train that ever entered the Great American Desert 
was so thoroughly equipped with all that maketh glad 
rhe heart of man. 

Their objective point was North Platte, Nebraska, 
where it was supposed that plenty of buffalo would be 
found. They were disappointed. In a day's hunt 



306 Some Big Game Hunts 

they killed but two and gave it up in disgust and went 
on to Denver. 

In those days, while the number of buffaloes on the 
plains was simply incalculable, almost beyond belief, 
nevertheless one might ride for days without seeing a 
head. They followed the weather. As a rule they 
grazed on the succulent buffalo grass near the streams, 
the North and South Platte and the Arkansas. When- 
ever a severe storm from the north arose they would 
drift south before it, sometimes crossing the entire 
distance from the Platte to the Arkansas, and then 
when the weather moderated would drift back again. 
So they came and went. And it required an accurate 
knowledge of the plains and weather to know where to 
find them. 

In the early days the Indians camped along the Platte 
would burn a wide strip of prairie each side of the river 
thirty miles away. When the buffalo drifting would 
strike the burned ground they would turn back and 
this operated as a herd line to keep the winter food with- 
in certain limits. 

When the Grand Duke's party came to Denver, I 
had been engaged to play for the grand ball that was 
given in his honor. I was living at Kit Carson on the 
Union Pacific, having crossed the plains in 1868. I 
was then returning from a trip south of Denver to col- 
lect some threshing bills where I had run a threshing 
outfit in the fall of 1869. Think of that, you old-timers 
running a threshing machine in Colorado in 1869! 



A Royal Buffalo Hunt 307 

I had been bragging to my acquaintances in Denver 
of the great herds of buffalo about Kit Carson, and 
General Custer heard of it and came to me when I was 
playing for the dance. 

I told him what I knew and an expedition was im- 
mediately planned. Seventy-five cavalry horses, four 
six-mule teams and four ambulances were requisitioned 
from Fort Wallace, fifty miles from Kit Carson, and 
the Grand Duke's private train was run up to the near- 
est point, where the mule train met us. As the in- 
formant and with a thorough knowledge of the ground, 
I was taken along as a guide. 

The Grand Duke had several Russians with him and 
there was a whole army of camp followers, servants as 
well as regular soldiers from the fort. 

It was a question of saddle horses and I obtained an 
old favorite of mine, a black saddler from Pat Schand- 
ler, a noted old-time railroad contractor in that coun- 
try. 

The Grand Duke had been given a rather skittish 
horse and admiring my mount and learning that he was 
an old buffalo hunter asked me to exchange with him, 
which I gladly did. 

General Custer was one of the most noted horsemen 
in the army. I have never seen a finer. He rode with 
the cavalry saddle, but as easily and gracefully as a 
born cowboy. He immediately demanded my horse, 
and mounting him proceeded to show off his horseman- 
ship before the Grand Duke. Throwing the reins on 



A Royal Buffalo Hunt 309 

his neck he guided the almost unbroken horse in a circle 
by the pressure of his knees, and drawing both his 
revolvers fired with either hand, at a gallop, with as 
much accuracy as though he were standing on the 
ground. The Grand Duke, who had seen the Cos- 
sacks of the Ukraine, declared it was the finest exhi- 
bition of horsmanship he had ever seen, and applauded 
every shot. 

General Custer was then in the prime of life, a gal- 
lant figure with his flowing hair and his almost foppish 
military dress. Fresh from the great fight on the 
Washita, with no premonition of the Rosebud darken- 
ing his life, he was the ideal cavalryman, and the idol 
of the Western army. 

That morning, when the Grand Duke's train pulled 
in about daylight, we awakened him with the cowboys' 
salute and burned ammunition enough for a small 
battle. The camp train was fitted up and it made us 
cow-punchers sit up to see the stuff the commissary 
department carried. There was every kind of liquor 
champagne, all sorts of delicacies in the way of eatables, 
enough it looked to me, to feed an army, and all for one 
day's trip. 

The Grand Duke, as I recall him, was then about 
thirty, tall, well set up, blonde, with a Van Dyke beard 
sparkling, frosty, blue eyes. He spoke English with 
a very slight accent, and was extremely affable to 
every one. Affable is the word, for despite his cour- 



310 Some Big Game Hunts 

tesy, he never forgot, nor did you, that he was a great 
noble. 

It was not exactly condescendsion, but you knew 
the minute you saw him that he did not belong to the 
common herd. The habit of command, the universal 
deference paid him, the easy way that he gave his 
orders and expected every one to wait on him was 
noticeable in that country and time the most demo- 
cratic the world ever saw, where a scout was just as 
good a man as Phil Sheridan, and a cow-puncher was 
as good as his millionaire boss. So, easy as Alexis was 
in his ways, not even a cow-puncher would have thought 
of taking liberties with him. 

The route lay south from the railroad and within 
five miles we struck a herd of thousands of buffaloes. 
The Grand Duke was delighted to see them. He had 
crossed the continent to get a shot at the great brutes 
and here were numbers beyond his dreams. When we 
sighted them we took advantage of a small sand hill, 
a sort of a hogback perhaps a half mile long. Custer 
who was in charge of the hunting party, stopped and 
said, 

"Boys, here's a chance for a great victory over that 
bunch of red skins the other side of the hill. Major 
B., you will take charge of the right flank, I will attend 
to the left. General Sheridan and the infantry will 
follow direct over the hill. Ready! Charge!" 

Away they went, Alexis in the lead. I recollect 
telling General Sheridan that the two soldiers who were 



A Royal Buffalo Hunt 311 

to ride with the Grand Duke and supply him with fresh 
loaded guns would have their hands full when that 
black horse of mine saw the buffalo. I stayed with the 
ambulances, having no horse, and when we reached the 
foot of the hill we left the ambulances and started to 
the top on foot. We were just reaching the top when 
we saw two or three wounded buffalo trying to get 
away. We started to get a shot at them and just then 
the whole crowd of hunters charged the hill from the 
opposite side, shooting at the buffalo. The bullets 
were dropping all around us and we "infantry" made 
tracks down the hill, trying to get out of range. Sher- 
idan was too short in the legs to run and threw himself 
flat on the ground with his face in the buffalo grass to 
get out of range. I yelled to them to stop firing, but 
they were so excited that it looked for a little bit as 
though they would wipe out the entire command of 
"infantry." 

Finally they stopped and when Sheridan got to his 
feet I think he was the maddest man I ever saw. On 
horseback his short legs did not show much and he was 
a fine, soldierly figure, but on foot with his long body, 
short legs and big waist measure he was far from im- 
pressive. But when he turned loose on that bunch he 
was impressive enough. There was only one man in 
the army who could equal him when it came to a certain 
kind of expletives and that was Custer, himself. I 
don't know what kind of language Pa Romanoff used 
to give Alexis when he got mad, but that slip of royalty 



312 Some Big Game Hunts 

got a cussing from Phil Sheridan that day that I bet 
he never forgot. He didn't spare anybody in the bunch, 
not even Custer and the Grand Duke and he included 
all their kin folks direct and collateral. 

It was a liberal education in profanity to hear him. 
The Grand Duke didn't seem to care, he was having 
the time of his life. My black saddler took him into 
the thick of the herd every time and his two soldiers 
kept handing him cool guns fresh loaded. He sure had 
a hunt that day. The hunt never stopped till over 
two hundred were killed. One calf that had been 
wounded ran past us foot soldiers and Sheridan shouted 
at me to grab it. I caught him by the tail and held 
him while Sheridan with his revolver put him out of 
his misery. Years after, in Virginia City, Nevada, I 
met the general again and recalled myself to him as 
the boy who held a buffalo by the tail while he killed it. 

The six-mule teams followed the hunt and the but- 
chers cut off and saved the humps. The buffalo hump 
is a curious provision of nature. It is mostly fat, very 
tender and delicious, even when the owner is an old 
bull. It was thought that it was a reserve supply of 
nourishment for their long marches, the animal living 
on this surplus fat in times of scarcity. 

We loaded the Grand Duke's commissary car with 
buffalo humps that night and for all I know he took 
some of them back to St. Petersburg with him. 

One old bull had been wounded and lay down pretty 
sick. The company with Alexis at the head rode up 



A Royal Buffalo Hunt 313 

and emptied their revolvers into him. One of the 
butchers, named Rudy, from Carson, wanted to dis- 
tinguish himself before the Grand Duke and jumped 
off his horse and ran up to cut his throat and get his 
hump. I shouted to him to look out and just then the 
dead bull got up and started for Rudy. One of Rudy's 
legs was about four inches shorter than the other, but 
no sprinter on a cinder track ever made better time 
than Rudy did for his horse, with everybody shooting 
at the bull. Just as Rudy reached his horse, the bull 
dropped. The fact is that you might pump a lead mine 
into one of those old bulls and he would walk off with 
it unless you got a bullet into his heart, or into his back, 
just forward of his hind quarters. That finished him. 

When we got back to camp we found that the ser- 
vants and camp followers had started in to see what 
kind of grub the Russians ate, but more particularly 
to see what kind of stuff they drank. Everybody was 
drunk and happy. Champagne bottles, liquor bottles 
and every other kind of bottle littered the ground. 
That battle field showed more "dead ones" than the 
hunting ground did buffalo. Then it was Custer's 
turn. All that Sheridan had done that morning in 
the way of cussing was equalled and surpassed. I 
cannot pay his efforts a higher compliment than to say 
that when Custer got through with that bunch they 
were pretty near sober and that is some cussing. 

In those days there was not much necessity for stalk- 
ing the game. The motto was like Nelson's "Find the 



314 Some Big Game Hunts 

game and go after him." But some strategy had to be 
used to get close to the herd. Then it was each fellow 
for himself. The hunter could ride into the herd and 
shoot as fast as he could, aiming to land a bullet in the 
heart if possible. It took a good horse to keep up with 
a buffalo. That is my experience. But in a herd like 
that was they could not run so fast. When the herd 
had been pursued as far as we cared to, or when we 
had meat enough, we stopped and then it took several 
hours to finish the cripples and gather the humps, 
tongues and other choice parts. 

There was just enough danger in it to make it ex- 
citing. The biggest danger was the stumbling of your 
horse. If he happened to set his foot in a prairie dog 
hole and go over with you, you were liable to have 
trouble. A man on foot didn't stand much chance 
with a buffalo bull. The horses were mostly cow 
ponies thoroughly accustomed to hunting buffalo and 
could turn and swing quicker than a cat. Some of us 
used short carbines carrying heavy ball with six- 
shooters for close quarters. With a good horse you 
could drop your reins on his neck and use both hands. 
The pony would carry you into the herd and as fast as 
you dropped a buffalo he would range you along side 
of another one. 

A few hours of that kind of sport sure gave a man an 
appetite, and when we finished and got the camp ser- 
vants sober, we had a feast with nothing lacking to eat 



A Royal Buffalo Hunt 315 

or drink. In fact, Delmonico in that day could not 
have equalled the spread. 

The Grand Duke's train pulled out that night. He 
got what he came so far for and went home thoroughly 
satisfied. 

So far as I am able to learn I am the only survivor, 
except Buffalo Bill, of that hunt, unless the Grand Duke 
is still alive, which I do not know. He had a romantic 
history, later, I have heard. Married a commoner, 
some lady of low degree, was in disgrace with the fam- 
ily for a while and, I believe, left Russia for a time. 

Custer was killed at the great battle of the Rosebud 
and Sheridan died in his bed. 

Looking back, it hardly seems possible that so few 
years ago such a hunt could have taken place, when 
today the buffalo are numbered by a few score. The 
robe hunters and skinners made short work of the mil- 
lions that were on the plains when I crossed them. 

It is a pity that we did not have a Roosevelt in power 
then, who would have awakened us to the crime of the 
useless slaughter of these magnificent animals. We 
wasted them without a thought, as we have wasted so 
many other of our natural resources. 

I was a young man then, thirty-seven years ago, 
and I am not a very old one, now, at least I do not feel 
old, but in my short span I have seen this whole western 
country settled. I have seen the white face and the 
shorthorn take the place of the buffalo. Wheat and 
corn and alfalfa supplant the buffalo grass and there 



316 Some Big Game Hunts 

are hundreds of prosperous towns and even cities on the 
very ground where I have killed buffalo and dodged 
Indians, 

It was a wild country, a wild life and they were gal- 
lant men that lived it. All or most of them are gone. 
I feel sometimes as though I was "The last leaf on the 
tree." 

But it is better, now, better all around. The buf- 
falo, like the Indians, took up too much space. It took 
too many acres for him to live on and he had to give 
up to those who could do with less. I saw it coming 
and I am today fattening a hundred cattle on ground 
that then would hardly have supported one range steer. 

The cowboy now carries a hammer and a pair of wire 
cutters instead of a six-shooter, and "Boot Hill" is a 
prosperous residence suburb of Dodge. 



"The life of the Honorable CM. Beeson, of Dodge 
City, Kansas, the author of this sketch, bridges the gap 
between the old and the new of the Great Plains. 

Leaving his home in Iowa as a boy of twenty years, 
he has lived to see the Wild West supplanted by the 
civilized West. As he says, the white face and the 
short horn steer replace the buffalo, and wheat and corn 
and alfalfa supplant the buffalo grass. 

For years he led an adventurous life, but he finally 
settled down at Dodge in the cattle business. As the 
old ranges were broken up he acquired land of his own 



A Royal Buffalo Hunt 317 

and he is now one of the wealthy men of his community 
with a beautiful home just south of Dodge. 

He was twice sheriff of Ford County in its stormy 
days and has the reputation of always getting the man 
he went after, although he had to bring him back in a 
coffin. Later he represented his county with distin- 
guished ability in the Kansas legislature. 

Adapting himself easily to the changing conditions, 
he has played his part with equal success in the stormy 
days of the frontier and the settled, prosperous present. 

Through it all he has kept a great love for music. 
Always a fine violinist, he was the organizer of the cele- 
brated Cowboy Band that played all over the country, 
and Beeson's orchestra of which two of his sons are 
members, is famous all over the West."_ 




Cache. 



JAN 2 1912 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 



•JAN 2 ^912 




002 890 538 5 



